


Not in so many words

by therealchancewriter



Category: Little Women (2019), Little Women Series - Louisa May Alcott
Genre: Childbirth, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fingerfucking, Hand Jobs, Makeup Sex, Marriage, Married Life, Memories, Miscarriage, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Postpartum Depression, Quickies, Tantric Sex, Temporary Erectile Dysfunction, Trichotillomania
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:33:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 57,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23221780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealchancewriter/pseuds/therealchancewriter
Summary: On his anniversary Laurie reflects on the lessons learnt during the first five years of his marriage to Amy.
Relationships: Theodore Laurence/Amy March
Comments: 109
Kudos: 453





	1. Chapter 1

A chilly early August morning. The most satisfying sleep. Laurie opened his eyes just a bit. The room was dark and chilled, but the covers were thick and warm. The fire had died out. A dream was ebbing from his mind. Like wisps of smoke, the images fading – blonde hair, baby blue silk, a dusky voice, laughter echoing, a strand of hair gliding across a pouty bottom lip. He snuggled deeper underneath and smiled in satisfaction. A pale leg stuck out from under the covers. He rubbed his cold toes against the smooth muscle just to see the foot pull back under the covers and hear his wife elicit a protesting groan. 

A mess of blond hair shuffled and Amy turned to face him. Her eyes were slits. The lines of the pillow creased half her face.

“Your feet are abominably cold.” 

“Well, come warm me up.” 

She snorted in mock derision as she gave him a doubtful eyebrow.

“What do you always tell me when Grandfather tells me to do something at work? Comply and then complain.” Laurie countered and Amy burst out laughing. He dragged his foot higher up her leg. “My lord!” She squealed and hit him with her pillow. 

He pursued her as she tried to fight him off with another pillow slap. He grabbed her by the waist and pulled her atop him as she giggled delightedly. She rested her arms atop his chest and smiled down at him. 

“Don’t even think about kissing me.” She warned him with a wicked smile. 

“Hmm. I can find other ways for your mouth to be occupied.” He pressed his groin into her. “Scandalous!” she exclaimed and rolled off of him laughing. He smoothly rolled atop her. The sheets tangled around their midsections as he kissed her collarbone and dragged his tongue down to the top of her breasts. He licked at her nipples through the thin linen nightgown. She pushed up against him with her pelvis, an admission of her appetite for him. 

“Comply then complain, my darling.” He retorted cheekily at her boldness. 

“You should soon expect a letter from my solicitor detailing my grievances.”

“How about a compromise? Some sort of negotiation before our solicitors become involved?” Laurie suggested as he pulled off his nightshirt and straddled her. He watched her eyes travel hungrily down his chest and further down to his stomach, flat as a board, and lower still. 

“I think we’re beyond conversation.”

“Indeed. Action speaks louder than words.” He countered as he pushed up her nightdress to settle his mouth between her legs. Attentively, he devoted himself to her, paying acute attention to every rise and fall of her breath, the way her legs strangled him, the way she arched herself into him further. When she came crashing into him she pulled hard on his brown curls, pulling him up just so that she could see her wetness on his mouth and chin. 

“Darling please…” He begged her as he kissed at her neck and pressed his hardness into her stomach. She smirked, knowing that this was exactly what he wanted. She pushed him off of her and rolled off the bed. 

He groaned and closed his eyes in delicious frustration. She stood at the foot of the bed and tapped her nails on the board impatiently. He opened his eyes to consider her. His gaze dark and sultry, heavy with want for her, his mouth and chin glistening. His hand lowered to his groin. 

“No!” 

“Darling, please! I beg of you.”

“My lord, I’m afraid negotiations have broken down irreparably. Maybe if you can counter with a more substantial proposition later...” She smirked at him and he loved that after five years of marriage she knew fully well that he loved nothing better than to savour it, to save it for later, to chase it. She walked off towards her dressing room and threw one last look at him. He licked his lips and smirked when Amy bit her lip in arousal. Such a delicate balance of who was really in control. He watched her gather up her courage to turn away from him. 

Laurie threw his head back on the pillows and reflected on his marriage to Amy. Five years today. It was a marriage that outsiders would describe as ‘perfect’. He scoffed. No marriage was perfect. His was a generally happy marriage, but in no way perfect. 

Feeling buzzed and unsettled, Laurie rose and went to get ready for the day. He reflected while sinking into a cold bath that five years is still a new marriage, but Laurie and Amy seemed to have blown past that ‘new’ stage, that ‘shy’ and ‘still getting acquainted with each other’ and went straight to telling each other every thought that cropped up. They believed in no secrets. Spending six weeks on a boat in close quarters with each other tended to obliterate secrets and timidity between a couple. That first year they had learned so many things about each other. She was direct when he was circuitous. When she was emotionally locked away from him, he gave her space, but knew exactly when to seek her out. He loved that she answered the real questions with an uncanny intuition. They knew what they were asking of each other. He supposed that started in Europe. He had known Amy all of his life, but their friendship and understanding of each other only started in Europe. He closed his eyes and thought of a beautiful afternoon in Vevey, Switzerland.  
– – – – – –  
Switzerland had a different impression to it. They - Aunt March, Amy and Laurie - had spent four days in Vevey in a hotel on the lakeside. It was a dreamy spring season, but loneliness permeated the air of the hotel. Spring was definitely for Vevey, not winter. Aunt March knew a couple who lived in Vevey. They graciously invited her and her companions to their home. 

The house of Anna and Jurgen was spacious and beautiful with a gravelled walkway in the front and an apple orchard to the side. In the distance was a view of the lake from the second story. They ate breakfast in the morning room. The light of the windows was bright and white. Little yellow butterflies floated up from the pink tulips planted under the kitchen windows. The room was warmed by a fire. The sound of footsteps of their grandchildren could be heard upstairs. Amy wrapped her delicate hands around a cup of hot chocolate as she stared outside at her host, Jurgen, chopping wood. Laurie admired her profile for a while. 

“I know what you’re thinking.” He said softly. 

She turned to him and gave him an insouciant tilt of an eyebrow. 

“You want to paint it.” 

She smiled in amused defeat.

“How did you know that? Am I that transparent or predictable?” 

“I know because we think similarly.” 

“Siblings are like that.” Anna said. She was as old as Aunt March, but happier, so she looked younger. She was American.

“Oh we’re not siblings!” Laurie and Amy protested immediately, vehemently. 

Confused, Anna looked to Aunt March. “I thought you told me…” 

“I said that they are close as siblings, my dear.” Aunt March explained with mild exasperation – a state she seemed to be in constantly. 

“Laurie and I grew up together. We were neighbours.” 

“Ah I see. Like a brother, but not. That would explain…” She trailed off and looked down at her breakfast. Amy looked at her questioningly then at Laurie, who seemed to be in understanding, but chose to say nothing too, instead taking a bite out of his eggs. Aunt March pursed her lips and she too focused on her breakfast. He could see that Amy felt excluded from a secret everyone knew. Was she really that oblivious to his feelings for her? Because to him and everyone else his feelings were like a brass band accompaniment to every stolen look and whispered sigh he threw her way. 

“Anyway,” he broke the tension, “I hear that you can rent a boat and tour the lake?” He asked Anna. 

“Oh yes! You two should take a walk down there and rent a boat. They have these lovely little boats you can paddle yourself. It’s stunning this time of year.” 

Amy looked uncertain and Laurie took her hand in his. 

“We don’t have to boat if you don’t want to. And if you do, you know I would never let anything happen to you. We can have a picnic instead.” 

Aunt March cleared her throat loudly and Anna smiled. Laurie pulled back his touch. 

“I don’t have a problem with the water…” Amy muttered a bit petulantly. 

“The girls should go with you. We can make kites! Mila! Lea!” She called out, looking at the ceiling as if she could see through it to upstairs. “Where are those girls? Come help me, Amy dear.” Anna got up and Amy followed. Laurie rose as they left the table. 

“I think Fred will join us soon, maybe tomorrow even.” Aunt March said to him. Laurie smiled to himself, expecting this. “He’s very busy. He works with his father and has a lot of responsibility. He isn’t idle.” She threw the word down like a missile. 

“All work and no play makes Fred a dull boy.” Laurie smiled devilishly as he left the room. 

The sun was bright. The temperature cool. The lake to the right of them was silver in the sunlight. To the left, the cool green of the trees invited you to relax. Anna’s grandchildren ran excitedly in front of Amy and Laurie. They were seven and nine. Blonde and brunette. They argued and pouted and immediately made up and repeated the process. 

“They’re like you and Jo.” Laurie noted as the two girls bickered over whether they should buy refreshments now or after. 

“You mean like you and Jo - inseparable. I just wanted to be near her. I was a right pest.” 

Laurie chuckled. “She has that energy. Makes you want to…” 

“Box her ears?” Amy suggested and Laurie threw his head back and laughed with abandon. “Yes! Yes, she does make you want to do that too.” 

“Oh I thought it was just me. Laurie, I don’t think I want to go boating.” She said softly, suddenly. She generally tried so hard to be confident, but this vulnerability was intimate. A near drowning are the kinds of things that stayed with a person. He threw his arm around her shoulders and spun her away from the lake view and towards an empty spot under a magnificently sprawling elm. “Don’t worry about it. We can sit here and watch the girls. I mean, someone has to tell the story when Mila throttles Lea.” Amy giggled as she helped him spread the blanket.

“That’s a real possibility. Jo very nearly did kill me when I burned her manuscript.” Amy said as she sat on one end, her legs tucked neatly under her, her periwinkle blue skirt fanning out gloriously as she and Laurie spread the contents of the picnic basket – bread with ham and cheese, cherry tomatoes, green olives, and peaches and cream for dessert. 

“That was a disaster. You weren’t even really sorry, were you?” Laurie leaned his back on the tree as he popped an olive into his mouth. 

“So shameful. I only said sorry because I just wanted everyone to be not mad at me anymore. I mean, now, now I understand how she felt. I would’ve wanted to kill me too. I just wanted to be with her, walk by her side, not in her shadow. And she casts such a huge shadow.” 

“It’s so funny how things work out. I only noticed Jo then. She is compelling, but so are you.” 

Laurie was looking out at the lake to ensure the girls were safe as they ran with the kites spluttering behind them. It wasn’t particularly windy, but suddenly an aggressive gust overtook the kites. They squealed with delight. He turned to look at Amy who was looking at him intensely, her lips slightly parted. 

“That’s why you’re fascinating.” Her eyebrows dipped in query. He came closer to her. “There’s a depth to you. It’s… how to describe it… Imagine you’re at a lake’s edge, the place is hot, the water is inviting, but it’s deep, deeper than you thought. You just want to sink through and through and then float up. The water is cool and calm and beautiful and graceful. You are…you are what people want…maybe need.” He muttered the last part, but she heard him. 

She looked at him with enigmatic thoughtfulness. 

“Jo on the other hand is combative. Argumentative people like us are drawn to her, but she has a way, like a fire, to draw you in and swallow you up.” He smiled wistfully. “Before, she walks into a room and you’re just drawn to her. But if you were to enter that room now, well…How to say…you’re the cool to her fire. That’s probably why you don’t get along so well.” 

She was quiet for a while, looking at the girls run about. He longed to know what she was thinking. Ever since Jo, he was always doubting his ability to read a woman. She knew how he felt. She took to being direct with him. He liked that. 

“You’re very good with your words.” 

“Really? I beg to differ. Jo might be better at explaining what I was trying to say.” 

“I think if all of us came together we could do a pretty decent job. Jo could write it, you would compose the score, Beth would play it and Meg would act it.” 

He smiled ruefully. “That would be perfect now wouldn’t it? Who do you think has the most important job there?” 

“No one. Everything has to come together.” 

They were closer to each other now, heads bent, bodies angled to each other as they somehow met in the middle of the blanket. 

“Someone must think one particular aspect would stand out or fade to the back. The behind the scenes don’t get as much importance as the frontliners. The person saying the words and playing the piano would stand out.” Laurie said. 

“Hmm, but to each his own. It’s what speaks to a person. When you go to the opera what stands out to you?” 

“The music.” 

“The singer or the song?” 

“The song, I suppose, but then l would be looking for how the song was composed, the lyrical structure. The underneath.”

She giggled. “Now see I wouldn’t even notice that. I’d be looking at the set design.” 

He edged closer. Knees were almost touching. Her hands were folded resolutely in her lap. Her eyes focussed on only him. “But don’t you suppose it has to do with your state of being? I mean, art is your passion and music mine, but depending on your mood something else might…grip your attention.” He glanced down at her lips.

“Something of course can grip your attention, but fundamentally your nature will define what will keep it.” 

“Do you truly believe that?” 

“What do mean?” 

“That your nature will define you? Or do you believe that you have some choice? You once said to me that you believe that there’s some choice over who we love.” 

She blushed because he had caught her contradicting herself. 

“What would I know? I’m not a poet.” 

He laughed and whispered to her, “I think you know.” A blush crept up her bosom and neck and she instantly whipped out her fan to hide behind it, struggling with a great trembling effort to keep her lips down. He mercifully saved her from having to reply when he suddenly got up and shouted for the girls to come closer. 

– – – – – – 

That was just a small conversation they’d had on Jo, just barely scratching the surface of the insecurities they’d have to face with the publication of Jo’s book. How was it that in just a few words, a book was able to crack the ground of his marriage to Amy? That first year when they thought they were blessed with the happiest marriage in the world - not a quarrel they’d had since the one when he first proposed to her. No, only debates and long talks and discussions. Nothing to rock the solidity of their happiness. And then the letters started to come through.

“Jo, the least you could have done was to choose better names. You don’t need the greatest detective in the world to figure out that Laddie is your version of Laurie. Lou is short for Louisa like how Jo is short for Josephine. And May is just an anagram of Amy!” He nearly shouted indignantly at his best friend and sister-in-law. 

They’d been sitting in the kitchen of Orchard House early in the morning, a pile of letters from rabid fan girls strewn around the table. The contents ranged from polite requests that Jo explain her reasoning for Laddie marrying May to raging hatred-filled diatribes on why May was the worst character ever written and did not deserve to marry Laddie, that Laddie and Lou should have ended up together. Jo had been dealing with them by not, simply reading them and leaving them in a corner of her work station to rot. However, Amy began to receive letters of her own. She read each one, absorbing their contents, turning over the reckless words in her mind, like the sculptor that she was, until she managed to form something terrible and grand, a gargoyle-like statue of insecurity looming in her mind. 

“Oh Teddy, I didn’t even want to write this story. My editor was pressuring me and Friedrich kept motivating me to expand my abilities. Publishing that book is the worst and best thing that has ever happened to me.”

“Jo, this is the worst thing that could happen to Amy and me. My marriage is…” He trailed off, not sure how to explain the precarious situation that he was in right now. “How would you feel if the entire world was telling you that your husband belonged with your sister?” 

“Surely not the entire world?” 

“Jo be serious! You have brutally invaded our privacy with your writings and you sit here casually dismissing my concerns. Your sister is driving herself insane with doubt and jealousy and feelings of inferiority.” 

He could see the exact moment the guilt hit her mind and heart. Good, he thought, as he watched her face crumple. She was not there when his wife turned away from him or when she looked at him shrewdly from a distance and he could see her wondering...

“What? What is it, darling?” He had asked her this morning in the early hours as he turned and she was there sitting up at the foot of the bed, opposite him, staring at him. He had started at first, this ghostly image in white, the light of the fire behind her, framing her long blond hair halo-like, paling her face. Her knees were drawn up, guarded, her arms rest atop them, her eyes blank. 

“Nothing’s the matter.” She smiled dully, her eyes chilled of mirth. This was her way for the last week. 

He sat up and attempted to bring her closer. She sprung from the bed and he froze in his movements, startled at her distancing from him. “Amy please.” 

It was the wrong thing to say. She looked at him in muted shock and hurt and immediately left the bedroom, grabbing her robe off the foot of the bed and leaving in a whirl of red velvet and the loud click of a door opening and closing in the dead of night. In the aftermath of the stunned silence he fell back against the soft pillows feeling flabbergasted. How could he be so stupid?! He never called her ‘Amy’ when it was just the two of them. At some point in time their relationship, when it was just the two of them, their names morphed into ‘my lord’ and ‘darling’ or ‘my Raphaella’. The logic being that this was just for them as anyone could call them by their given Christian names, but no one but themselves in the privacy of their own company could call them ‘my lord’ and ‘darling’. And he had confessed to Jo what Amy called him in private, only for her to use it as bricks for her character foundations. He had never been this angry at Jo as he was in that moment. 

Amy did not come back to bed and later in the morning she did not show up for breakfast. Laurie at once thought that if he and Amy survived this trial in his marriage the first thing he was going to do was move out of this massive mansion of his grandfather’s and buy a smaller house where his wife couldn’t hide herself away from him in another wing of the house. This was not a Brontë novel for goodness sake! This did nothing to soften his mood and he marched over to Orchard House intent on raising hell with Jo for her culpability in the disastrous state of his marriage. 

Only, while Jo felt guilty somewhat, she was unwilling to accept full responsibility for her actions. In fact, she argued that while she was to blame for putting up the privacy of his relationship for public review, the concerns that were plaguing Amy had more to do with Amy’s inner state, its inception not in the publication of this novel, but from since childhood. Thus, technically, the current state of his marriage was not really her fault. 

“I beg your pardon?” He was incredulous at her audacity!

“Oh Teddy, don’t be cross, but it is the truth!”

“Of all the insensitive – ”

“This is not something to blame me –”

“Your sister is losing her mind and you sit –”

“Stop preaching to me!” 

“You should talk! You practically proselytized –”

“Listen to me! You’re not listening! Listen to me!” She clapped her hands against the table.

Their raised voices echoed throughout the house and Laurie briefly wondered if Amy could hear them from next door. He was also struck with a thought that Jo was right – they could never have been married. This would have been them every day and their quarrels would have probably escalated to violence. How different to his current argument with Amy that involved no raised voices and banged doors or slammed tables. 

“Go on.” He generously acceded in a tone that clearly meant he felt the opposite.

“Yes, I should not have used your personal relationship as inspiration for my writings and I apologize for the grief that this has caused both you and Amy. However,” She shouted above him and gave him a look of warning to not interrupt her, “I do believe that Amy has deeper demons that she needs to exorcise that did not stem from this book. Amy feeling jealous and inferior has nothing so much to do with me as it has to do with how you make her feel to ensure that these feelings have no foundation and her ability to accept your sincerity. You are husband and wife Teddy, and while I am not a wife, as yet, I sincerely believe that such a relationship requires both parties to work together and discuss the issues that threaten to cause deep wounds.” 

She was right, of course, and oh how he hated her for it. Though if he stopped for a moment to think he would realize that he was angry at himself. He was the one that had casually offered up facets of his personal life to a writer. Should he really be angry with Jo? Jo was an artist as much as Amy as much as himself. That was what she did. She took from life to create art. He couldn’t very well have asked the subject of Amy’s still life paintings if they had wanted to be drawn. 

No, if he was really being honest, he was angry with Jo yes, and himself too, but he was also angry with Amy. He was beginning to resent her lack of conviction in him. He thought he had uprooted the weeds of doubt in her mind when he came back to her, but he realized, he hoped not belatedly, that he needed to dig deeper, to get to the root of the problem. He would have to uproot that insecurity and salt the ground so that no seeds of jealousy and distrust could ever bear fruit there again. Jo was right. Something had to be done because he and Amy were in a dangerous state. This wasn’t like them – honesty and openness was something they thrived on, so how was it possible for tired sighs and vacant stares and churlish silences to come between them? No, he had to fix this at once. 

He found her in the solarium. It was a rarely used room for him and his grandfather, but it was perfect for Amy. He admired how Amy had taken this massive albatross of a house and made it a home. There were her touches everywhere. On the armchairs were her scarves and on the side tables were the publications on art and discarded novels and en vogue magazines she were currently reading. There was also always a loose leaf from her sketchbook lying about somewhere, a piece of charcoal rolled under a table, pencils everywhere! She liked comfort and style in equal measure and the solarium which was once never used was now filled with comfortable armchairs, a couch and fluffy pillows, a soft rug with a thick pile, a coffee table with the silver tea tray and accompanying tea paraphernalia, a few of her sculptures dotted about the room and plants. Plants were everywhere and while he personally thought it was beginning to look a bit jungle like, he admitted that as long as she added no more plants, the solarium was now rather comfy and inviting. She was at the southernmost glass wall where she had placed an easel. The light of the glass walls and roof was a bit subdued as the morning promised rain and the sky above was a dramatic gunmetal grey. Outside the weather was still, the back lawn a brilliant green, the tall elms that encircled the back of the property looked almost menacing in the rapidly growing dark atmosphere of approaching rain. 

He entered, but she did not turn around, even after he closed the door loudly behind him. 

“Darling, I’m sorry.” 

“Do you even know for what you’re apologizing?” She said coolly as she applied some white to the top right of the painting. 

“Would you at least look at me? Amy? Amy!” 

He immediately regretted raising his voice for her hand hovered over the canvas and she turned to look at him with a stare of warning. He immediately remembered his buffoonish behaviour on that fateful New Year’s Eve night in Europe. She was wearing the same expression of muted derision then too. It was shocking to think that that was only a year and a half ago. 

“I’m sorry. I should not have raised my voice at you, but you need to stop this at once. Your behaviour is unbecoming of the woman I married.” 

Her eyebrows nearly touched her hairline and he wondered if he should just stop talking and grovel instead. He sat heavily on the couch and ran a hand through his unruly hair. This was heading south fast. When he looked up he saw that she had come to sit opposite him on the armchair, her light grey gown taking up nearly all the space as she centred herself. Progress somewhat, he thought hopefully, though her face was like granite. 

“You promised me that we’d be honest with each other. Do you not remember our vows?” Amy’s countenance immediately softened. “You need to stop this at once.” And instantly she was back to looking annoyed. He sighed. This conversation was worse than stepping on eggshells, it was littered with broken glass too. “My Raphaella, you misunderstand me. I am not asking that you present yourself as normal. Your feelings are valid and I respect them and understand them, but they are devouring your mind and blinding you. You are unable to see that you are distancing yourself from me and quietly sabotaging what we have been building. And that is unacceptable.” 

Amy smiled, a bit rueful, a bit devastating. “You’ve always been good with your words.” 

“I meant everything I said. And I would like for you to use your words and tell me what is on your mind.” The rain began to fall, at first a patter, but then it was pounding against the glass. She moved to sit next to him so that he may hear her better. He thought that someone up there was looking out for him. He tentatively pushed a strand of hair behind her ear. She leaned into him. Affection came easy to them. 

“What is on your mind, my Raphaella?” He whispered into her ear and his breath tickled her. He could smell her perfume, the natural scent of her skin. His curls brushed her face, as light as a baby’s breath. She turned to look at him and she was right there, close enough to see the blue mixed with grey flecked hues in her eyes, close enough to see the faint freckles on her jawline, on her perfectly sculpted face.

“My lord, you are right. I am sorry.” She said after a while as she looked down at her hands, spinning around her delicate wrist a simple band made of wire entwined with a piece of pink silk that Beth had given her. 

“I confess the letters have shaken me and distracted me from you. I…I wonder sometimes…” He could tell that she was uncomfortable admitting her insecurities. She was nervous and self-conscious, so he continued to stroke her hair as he paid attention to her. With the comfort of his touch the words began to pour out in a flood of desperation. “I was bombarded with thoughts of doubt. I wondered, perhaps, if you regretted your decision to marry me, whether I am really your first true love or only a consolation. Am I really as vain and selfish as everyone in those letters say I am?” 

Her mind was porcelain fragile right now, ready to shatter under the strain of doubt and insecurity. He could see the disintegration of her confidence and their marriage happening right in front of him. 

“Where did you go to this morning?” She looked up at him. 

“I went over to see Jo.” Subtly she pulled away from him. 

“What?” He asked, his hand frozen near her head. “I actually went to tell her that I was disappointed in her. Her novel has caused us grief because she has so carelessly written for the world to see something that is very private. Was I wrong to do this?” 

Amy sighed. “You should have sought me out first.” 

Laurie stared at her. His hand dropped heavily into his lap. 

“You’re right. But let’s be honest. You are my wife, but Jo, your sister, is my best friend. Since we are confessing, I will confess that it hurts me to know that you doubt me. Amy if we don’t fix this, this will cause me to resent you doubting my sincerity when I say that I love you and only you.” Amy looked up at him alarmed. “Do not worry, I have nipped that feeling in the bud because I have realized that I need to let you know that Amy you are not a consolation or a distraction. My love for you is an uncomplicated compulsion, an unwavering dedication. 

“You should not be swayed by the rabid letters of young girls who know not what they want and far less what I want. These girls are like my younger self. They mistake the first sign of pure affection as pure love, ignoring that it is brotherly and sisterly in nature because they too are desperate for love, seeking it in places even when it is not there. Their adolescent emotions are highstrung and underdeveloped much like my initial love for Jo. Amy, you know that I lost my parents young, that I spent a lot of my early years in boarding schools, eventually being sent to live with my grandfather and you know all too well how that relationship was in my youth. I was tempestuous and lonely and then came along Jo and her sisters. I was desperate for that kind of attention and family. Obviously I would mistake her affection for me as romantic. But the best thing to happen was for her to reject me and for me to meet you again in Europe. Amy, I have become the person that I have wanted to become with you. 

“You have a way that you are able to look directly through to the center of me. You know exactly what to say to get straight to the heart of the matter. I initially resented you for it because it was so easy for you to kill me softly with precise words that stabbed right into the underbelly of my insecurities – my talent, my lack of purpose, my dignity, my ability and desire to be respected, to be loved, to be a part of a family, of a relationship. But I knew why I felt that way. We think similarly. My insecurities are yours as well. You have helped me transcend those flaws and I need for you to take your own advice and learn and grow from those faults as well. 

“Yes, I admit that I should never have let you doubt my love for you and if you do I apologize. I love you my dear and no one else. But honestly, my Raphaella, you have feelings of inferiority rooted deep and tied to your sister that have caused you two to be in constant competition with each and constantly comparing each other. Remember how I said that you and Jo are like ice and fire? Fire and ice aren’t just combative in nature, they need each other. You need to speak honestly with your sister and fix those feelings or it could damage your relationship with her, with me and with yourself.” 

By the time Laurie had finished his speech tears were flowing down Amy’s face. 

“Darling, do not cry, that was never my intention to hurt you.” He pulled her to him. 

“I’m not crying for any reason other that I love you and I don’t know what I did to deserve such an amazing husband.” Laurie laughed in relief and Amy began laughing too. She pulled away from him to dry her tears, getting up and walking over to the windows to get her emotions under control. “I’m a sentimental sopping fool.” 

“Lucky for you I happen to like fools.” He said as he came to embrace her from behind. She laughed loudly and rolled her eyes. 

“I don’t think I’m ever likely to meet someone who understands me so completely.” She said quietly. 

“Likewise, my lady. Let us always be honest, promise?” He rested his chin on her shoulder. 

Amy nodded and smiled. “Promise.” 

“When did you get so mature, thoughtful and honest?” She asked with a teasing smirk.

“When I married you.” 

She blushed and laughed.

The stood rocking on the spot for a while as they looked at the rain pouring heavily, lashing violently against the windows, while they were protected inside. 

“I’ve missed you darling.” He whispered into her ear and kissed at her neck. Amy closed her eyes and further bared her neck for him. He sucked on the delicate skin there until it bruised red. He licked it gently to soothe the ache as his hands roamed over her breasts. He could feel her breathing becoming more laboured as she braced against the glass.

“You and your words.” 

“I mean it.” 

“Talk is cheap.” 

“And I am rich.” She laughed loudly as he pushed her up against the glass and raised up her voluminous skirt. 

“My lord, someone may walk in.” She weakly protested even as she spread her legs further for him and helped him lift her skirt. 

“Let them see how much I love you then.” He spoke boldly and turned her head to him to capture her lips in a rough kiss only to then push her away to bend her over. He knew her well enough to know exactly what to say to feed her sexual hunger and he was right on the money, for she moaned as he very easily slid into her. They shared a mutual physical appetite for each other, a delicate balance of power. Today, he was in charge and he took advantage of it. 

– – – – – – 

Presently Laurie got out of the bath amazed when he thought about the intricacies of the nature of his relationship with Amy. Their relationship was constantly shifting and evolving. When to comfort, when to chastise, when to give in, when to take charge – these were not roles defined by them, but were fluid, changing and passing between them dynamically, not just in the bedroom, but in their marriage generally. He liked that. He appreciated that. He learnt that within the first year of his marriage and had learnt so many more lessons after a mere five years including a little conversation could go a long way.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurie finally finds his home.

So many novels and songs and poems focused only on the gleeful beginnings or the agonizing ends of love affairs, but failed to look closely at the long stretches in between. What was a marriage, Laurie thought. Marriage was getting to know the other person. To know their likes and dislikes. It was getting to a place of comfort. After five years Laurie preferred the comfort they had now. So many men were focused on firsts. In the company of men alone, when they could speak freely, many of his acquaintances spoke openly of boredom, of the thrill of the unknown leaving them after they’d had their wives. Privately Laurie wondered if something was wrong with him, if he was peculiar in his sexual habits. Yes, his first night with Amy was thrilling, exciting, but the pressure to perform, to not hurt her, to overcome the initial awkwardness, to satisfy their mutual expectations was almost overbearing. 

No, he preferred those moments long into their marriage where they had reached a level of familiarity and intimacy that he doubted most men had with their wives, that most anybody could have with anyone. On their second year anniversary they were in bed that night. He was sitting on the bed, his back against the headboard, she on top him, arms wrapped around his neck, legs anchored to the side of him as she rocked high and then deep, slowly, back and forth. Their breaths mingled, sweat pearling on their skin, pupils blown and big as the moon. Rocking back and forth, back and forth like a rocking chair, kissing deeply, offering all of themselves into their kisses, stealing their breaths away each time. 

She was in control, but she was in tune to him and him to her. If she grew tired he gripped the back of her thighs to steady her and rocked up into her. Careful attention was paid to every sigh, every moan, every touch. She would notice him nearing and pull back, whispering only “not yet, not yet” leaving him more desperate in his excitement. His body was completely engulfed in arousal, his mind simultaneously focused yet open. That tight feeling coiling at the base of his stomach, throbbed with want. He had to breathe deeply to keep it under control. He had learnt with her that stimulation could be simple and unexpected – a kiss on the neck, a light caress on his stomach, her tongue slowly gliding across his chest, a wicked little breath play to tickle his ear, the harsh scrape of her nails along his spine – all contributed to a frenzy of sexual overdrive and still he got “Not yet, not yet.” It drove him mad with desire for her. And she knew he loved it. He loved nothing more than she making him test his limits, to chase that pleasure, savour it, soak in it, be enveloped and consumed by eroticism. They went that way for over an hour. It was an exquisite and unusual torture. 

It was as much physical as it was mental. They had reached a level of mutual understanding. To notice the signs – knuckles white, breaths hitched, skin slick, moans guttural, bodies pressed as close as possible, pacing feverish in pitch, sensations heightened – and to know, to understand mentally and physically, that now was the time. They orgasmed together. It was powerful, powerful enough that they felt it past the immediate physical sensation, it expanded throughout their entire bodies, into their minds. It was as emotionally and psychologically and spiritually piercing as it was physical. 

Afterwards, they had lain there staring at the ceiling, their minds blank, their bodies still tingling, their ears ringing. Laurie felt incapable of constructing a sensible sentence and Amy was unable to move, let alone attempt walking. They looked at each other and started to laugh. They couldn’t help it, they couldn’t stop. They fell into some dizzying post-coital blissful glee. They had unlocked something between themselves, a secret level born from intense intimacy and comfort with each other.

Now on the day of their fifth wedding anniversary, as Laurie descended the stairs to breakfast to see Amy sitting at the table, the first thought that entered his mind was, how could men only want firsts? Where was the appeal? They did not have what he had, that intimacy that developed after time, that mind meld, that psychological symbiosis that could lead to something transcendental with a partner. She was sitting at the table eating her breakfast and reading the papers, supposedly too enveloped by the article to notice his presence, but he knew she was acutely aware of him entering the room and sitting near her right. The table was spread with his favourites – scrambled eggs, bacon, toast with jam on one side, fresh fruit and cream. 

“What are you doing today?” She asked absently. 

“Nothing much. I have to go into the office for a few hours, I cannot avoid it, but I should be home early. Why? You have plans for me?” He asked casually. 

“No.” She answered dismissively and he smiled inwardly. 

“Really? I thought you were inviting friends. I just hope it’s not –” Amy looked up at him and took up a strawberry slowly into her mouth, her lips forming a delicate ‘O’ around the fruit and Laurie stumbled in his conversation. She bit into the fruit and smirked triumphantly. 

“Do you think people know?” He asked her after he adjusted himself in his pants. He was too sensitive after this morning when she riled him up and didn’t finish him off. He was on edge and she liked to keep him right there. He liked it too.

“Know what, my lord?” 

“That you’re an incorrigible flirt?” 

Amy burst out laughing, but immediately sobered up. This was not in keeping with her cool and detached persona. 

“I must profess I don’t know what you’re speaking about.” She said as she dipped her index finger to scoop up a dollop of cream. Before she could bring it to her mouth Laurie seized her hand by the wrist, taking the digit into his mouth to slowly suck off the cream. 

“Oh Mr Laurence my apologies!” That was the maid who was bringing in a pot of fresh coffee and she immediately backed out muttering a stream of “I’m so sorry” and “I think the cook is calling.” 

Laurie and Amy burst out laughing.

“Well that’ll be all over Concord by this afternoon.” Amy said. She was as red as a tomato. Laurie thought, Good, serves you right for teasing, but instead only said,

“Nothing new, they’ll add it to the other tales of our base depravity.” 

“Aren’t you tired of that sometimes?” She said as she sobered up. “I’m tired of people lobbing all sorts of rumours about us. I’m tired of their talk.” 

“You can’t escape talk.” 

“Does it not bother you? We do so much, but it’s never enough.” 

“You can’t please all the people all of the time. As long as you have somewhere or someone to call home, it shouldn’t matter what the outside think.” 

“Yes, but now home isn’t even affording you the liberties of privacy or freedom.” 

“Home is as much a place as it is –”

“– a person, yes.” She finished for him and they both smiled, both remembering when he had first told her this. 

“You remembered what I said?” 

“I have been known on occasion to listen to you, my lord.” She retorted with a playful smirk. 

“Far and few in between, I’m sure. I’m just glad that the pertinent things I say manage to find a footing.” He said as he tried to pull on a loose curl. 

“You might find a footing if you don’t stop.” She playfully threatened as she batted his hand away and they ended up laughing. 

“You think she’ll ever bring back that coffee?” 

“She’s probably writing up her resignation as we speak.” And they both dissolved into peals of laughter again.

– – – – – – 

When they were initially married, Laurie and Amy had returned to Concord happy enough to settle down into the Laurence home. It was never really in any contest as to whether they would be staying at anywhere else. Amy was fine with the arrangement – she was with her husband and her family was just next door. Who could want more than that? The house was grand and massive with book lined walls and entire corridors dedicated to white stoned busts of famous persons gone by. There was biblical artwork on the walls, all rendered in the glorious melodramatic styling of the Renaissance period like the coronation of Esther and Daniel contemplating in the lion’s den. There were entire rooms that seemed to have no purpose other than architecturally, that should it be removed the house would collapse, but seemed to serve no other purpose. These rooms were void spaces filled with cloth covered furniture and a vague sense of neglect. The staff comprised a butler and housekeeper who worked double duty as cook, valet, footman and carriage driver. There was a distinct air of abandonment and loneliness permeating the entire estate. “There’s a chill here,” She had said when she first arrived as Mrs. Laurence. 

“I’ll get a fire going,” Laurie acted at once. 

“That’s not what I meant.” She muttered and she thought that he didn’t hear her, but he had, instead choosing not to comment.

Nevertheless, Laurie noticed that Amy was determined to make this place her new home with her husband. She was after all the mistress of the house and Laurie its master as his grandfather had returned to London and had been absent for months. Amy had begun of course in the spaces she spent the most time like their bedroom, the solarium and the parlour, inserting her feminine touch and artistic eye to little things. 

“What’s all this?” Laurie had asked one morning when he entered the living room to see bales of fabric spread over the chairs and some leaning against the coffee table and spilling over onto the floor. 

“Oh, remember how I was telling you that this space is so dreary? Well I was just looking over the fabric to see what would suit it better. I won’t do only the drapery, but I might upholster the chairs too. Which do you prefer for the drapes?” 

She beckoned him closer and with heads bent they decided on a more suitable fabric for the space. He liked that she included him in her decisions of these kinds. The house was always a woman’s domain, but Laurie remembered a conversation with a recently divorced man, who after twenty-three years of marriage realized that he had not one single opinion on anything in his house, not even the cutlery was of his choosing. Most men cared nothing of this, but Laurie agreed with the man and with Amy. If you lived in a place, shouldn’t you make it your home? And your home should be a reflection of you with your tastes and preferences manifesting even in the littlest choices as the type of cutlery.  
When everything was more or less to the satisfaction of both Amy and Laurie they decided to host a party.

“Oh! We can hold the wedding rehearsal dinner for Jo and Mr. Bhaer here!” Amy exclaimed suddenly one evening, the idea striking her quickly over dinner, making Laurie spill his soup with her exclamation. 

“Sounds lovely. You’re a very good sister.” She preened over his praise. 

“Will you help me?” 

“Of course, darling. Whatever you need.” 

“I will need money.” 

Laurie threw his head back and laughed and Amy smiled at him indulgently. “Why am I not surprised? Well you’re in luck, I think I may be able to assist you there.” 

He smiled brightly, joining in her excitement over this. It was impossible not to get swept up in her emotions. They began planning immediately. 

Laurie was glad, ecstatic truly that he no longer felt like he had to juggle his wife and his very best friend, keeping them in separate, but clashing spheres of his life like a real life Venn diagram. They’d become closer, as sisters should be. Honest discussions were held after the publication of the book, accusations were lobbed, bitter recriminations volleyed back, followed by acrimonious silences and subsequently the necessary reflection that births understanding and acceptance. They were closer than ever now. It was probably why Jo was so willing to let Amy take a leading role in planning her wedding rehearsal. And also because Jo hated those kinds of things. Amy was born to organize. Jo was eternally grateful. 

Great attention was paid to the guest list. 

“Did you invite the Moffats?” Laurie asked in annoyance as he looked over the list. 

“My lord, please! We have to.” 

Laurie clicked his tongue, but did not deny her claims. “Fine, but I’m going to fix this seating arrangement for you.” 

“What’s wrong with my seating?” 

And they sat in their bedroom cross-legged on the massive bed, up all night discussing the arguments for and against placing this one next to that one. They were happy. 

The dinner itself was simple. The kind you lingered over. Smoked salmon, a rich beef stew, mushroom pilaf, a light salad. A few bottles of red wine were open in the middle of the table. Everyone was talking to someone. Plates were being passed around noisily. The conversation was steady, never faltering, laughter ringing out. The candlelight flickered. It was a house filled with the warmth of love. 

Later, brandy and more wine were being served along with the choice of fresh, strong coffee or spiced tea. Fresh fruit were on platters. Everyone was in the newly redecorated drawing room. They couldn’t stop commenting on this or that. Amy preened at the praise of her choices, making sure though, to point out that it was a joint effort between husband and wife. Eventually, the lights were dimmed, the fire was roaring. A light rain was falling outside. Leisurely they sipped on wine or drank tea and ate orange cake with vanilla icing. A few were playing bridge in a corner. Laurie had taken to playing the piano. Jo and Mr. Bhaer were leading a conversation on the importance of the female perspective in literature and art and by the wider extent, a woman’s role in society. Amy was the best host, facilitating and encouraging guests to lend their opinions to the discussions. When it got heated, she silently excused herself to stand next to her husband near the piano. 

“You look so happy, my lord.” She whispered to him. 

“I am. I genuinely am.” It was reflected in his music which was light and primaveral in keeping with the season.

She looked at him with a keen intelligence.

“You’ve always wanted this.” 

“Amy, you have made this house into a home for me. With you here, this is the first time that I have been so satisfied within these walls. I’ve always wanted this.” He was speaking softly, his notes light. He was not looking at her, his eyes focused on the keys, his confession to the music. “I want to have this conjugal serenity forever with you. I want late night dinners where I entertain friends and we talk about art and music and theatre and culture and religion. I want to talk freely like this, like I how I talk with you. You’ve given me a home.” 

In that moment, who could be happier? Because that was exactly what she had wanted. She was so overjoyed to be with someone that understood her. She wanted to kiss him, but with everyone around she had settled for putting her arms around his shoulders. He leaned into her.

The dinners did not stop there. There were always dinners at the Laurences now. They’d had to hire more staff. Every fortnight and sometimes weekly there was a dinner to be held at their house. Jo and Mr. Bhaer and John and Meg were regulars. Other than that, the guest list was always changing. Henry Adams had passed through along with Henry Wadsworth Longfellow at one point. They were some of the more renowned guests, but most times there were aspiring poets and politicians, writers and musicians. It was a lovely home. It was a lovely time. 

And then Mr. Laurence returned home suddenly one cold day near the end of spring. Laurie and Amy would forever remember the time for it was moving day for Jo and Mr. Bhaer. After the honeymoon, the couple returned home and was officially moving into Aunt’s March house that she had left for Jo as part of her last will and testament. Amy and Laurie, upon the invitation of Jo, would spend the weekend at the house helping the newly married couple settle in and organize the house warming. It had been a lovely weekend as the entire family came out and Jo and Fritz discussed plans for their school, inviting Amy to teach art there. 

When they returned home Amy and Laurie stood frozen on their threshold. Their initial laughter and smiles gone as their lips formed a parallelogram of shock. Gone were the light drapes and the newly reupholstered chairs were removed. Returned were the rigid paintings of Old Testament doom and gloom and removed were the conversation-stirring new paintings of the very fashionable impressionist movement. Generously, Mr. Laurence had left Amy’s own artwork untouched, a move that only solidified Amy’s belief that her work lacked vision and she fell into a somewhat sombre mood. 

Laurie and Amy said nothing, since as it was, it was Mr. Laurence’s home to do as he saw fit, so they could not resent him reminding them of that fact. What they did resent, however, was the immediate ceasing and desisting of the hosting of dinners for those “bohemians.” Family was one thing, he had said, Jo and Meg and Marmee and their husbands were always welcomed, but he would not have his house being traipsed through by such sorts the ones of which Laurie and Amy entertained. 

The argument had been spectacular. 

For the nearly two years that Laurie had been married, he had managed to calm his temper. Rarely had he had the cause to be vexed except for that one spot of trouble last year with the publication of Jo’s book. But here he was forgetting himself, shouting to the point that his voice became hoarse. The things he said were incendiary and possibly signalled a terminal end to the relationship between grandfather and grandson. Things very nearly escalated to violence before Amy had to intervene. 

“Laurie! Stop this at once.” 

He had turned to see his wife standing at the door of the living room, her face anguished with hurt and fear and disappointment in him. That made him pause. Nothing was as incisive as Amy’s look of disappointment. She was a champion in that regard. Laurie stilled and walked away. Though he wasn’t finished arguing. In their bedroom, he railed and ranted. 

“So disrespectful! He’s treating me like a second class citizen in my own home.” 

Amy had sat on the bed watching him make a trench in the carpet as he paced up and down the room, frustrated at a lack of outlet for his rapidly imploding anger. She had said nothing, knowing it was necessary for him to vent. She nodded and listened attentively to his arguments, but was patiently biding her time to strike him with a debilitating verbal blow, something along the lines of, 

“It’s not our home. It’s your grandfather’s home. If you want one, you should provide one for your wife.” 

Laurie stopped so suddenly his entire body jerked as he turned to look at her. 

“What?!” 

“I shall not repeat myself. You need to re-evaluate your priorities and perspective in this argument. You are my husband and it your responsibility to provide a home for me. You have been derelict in your duty to your grandfather as you never once asked his permission to bring a wife into his home. And you have been remiss in your responsibility to your wife as you have failed to provide her with a home where she can be a mistress. And I know you have been irresponsible in your duty to yourself because you have set yourself in a home for your family in which you are not the master.” 

Laurie stared at her in shock. He knew that they knew each other well enough to hurt each other with surgical precision, but this penetrating ability of hers to strike straight at the soft flesh of his insecurities was too wounding. But he too knew how to cause her grief. He pretended that he didn’t care and adopted a cavalier attitude to her words, like they meant nothing at all. They went to bed that night with their backs to each other. 

Supper was now an abysmal affair permeating with a monotonously melancholy mood. Conversations were scarce and limited to the weather or official business. And there was no conversation between Laurie and his wife. For a week they were in each other’s presence trapped in a loaded silence. She was composed and aloof, but he was better at it than her and after a while, she turned from affecting an air of insouciance to a sullen mood that was quickly turning to despair.

One day he entered the living room where she was reading, or at least pretending to because she’d been reading that book for the last week and had yet to turn a page, when he sat on the armchair that he occupied earlier, casually picking up a book that he was actually invested in and more or less ignored her presence. This show of all the patience in the world didn’t seem to translate to her, for she sprung up as if he’d been tapping his foot and looking at the time. She flung down her book in the middle of the floor like a naughty child and ran off from the room. 

He found her in the bedroom crying into the pillow and he instantly ended their war. 

“Darling, what’s the matter? Tell me.” He rushed to her side. She sat up, her face comically pouty and puffy. He was immediately reminded of the first time he ever met her all those years ago outside his window. 

“My lord, I am sorry that I was so harsh with my words. I wasn’t playing fair. I can’t stand your neglect.” 

He smiled in amused relief. Jo was right. They could both be so melodramatic. They truly were made for each other. “No, you were right and I am the one to apologize. I’ve been in a bad mood and I’ve treated you poorly.” 

She laid her head down onto his lap and he caressed the fine stray away baby hairs on her forehead. 

“Let us quarrel no more.” 

He bent to kiss her, but he was preoccupied. Amy apologized but he knew that she meant her every word, she was really apologizing for not saying it in a more palatable way. She never used her words lightly. He was in a better mood now to listen to her points, so after a while he asked softly, 

“Is that what you truly think? That I have not provided for you adequately?” 

She was on the cusp of falling asleep. The bedroom was sun drenched, a certain languor was present in the room as he stroked her hair. She shuffled until she was looking directly up at him. 

“Not quite, but it is the truth.” It stung, but he felt blessed that she was comfortable enough to always be direct with him despite his actions the past week. “You cannot be angry with your grandfather. This is his house. If you want to do as you please and be comfortable in your own house, then you need to get your own. It’s part of accepting responsibility. It’s a massive commitment, I know, but it is part of growing up. I know that growing up feels like you can never go home again. I understand that that was how Jo was feeling, it was what made her so unwilling to marry at first.” 

“Here was never a home for me.”

“I know. There’s a chill here from your grandfather’s grief. I suspect it’s why he doesn’t like our guests. Their free attitude reminds him too much of your father.” She said tentatively. She knew that the topic of his parents was an unspoken taboo in their relationship. 

Laurie’s countenance softened though. Taking his cues from his grandfather, Laurie almost never spoke of his parents. That sort of grief and hurt was meant to be locked away deep, deep down. Years later and he could barely remember their faces, supplanting his own memories with pictures of them that he found hidden in drawers of his grandfather’s bedroom, and even those images were fading, but the emotions were there. What happened to grief if you neglected it? He didn’t want to find out, but he suspected it would resemble the ways of his grandfather. 

He sighed. “I suppose I’ve been a bit inconsiderate, but Grandfather has been too!” He added hastily, a bit puerile. Amy smiled and agreed and he settled knowing that he had some support. 

“But you should still apologize.” She said firmly and he reluctantly agreed. 

Amy rose from his lap and took his hand in hers, looking him firmly in his eyes with concern and naked sincerity. “My lord? I’m sorry that you had a rough childhood. I’m sorry that your home was never a home for you.”

A simple acknowledgement like that was almost overwhelming for Laurie. The affection he had for her in that moment made him want to explode. He took a deep breath to settle himself enough to respond. 

“It doesn’t matter you see. A home does not constitute a simple collection of items between four walls and a roof. These past few days when you weren’t speaking to me, I’ve been miserable. A home is truly anywhere with you.”

Amy blushed. “You and your words…” She muttered with a pleased smile. “Nevertheless, while I agree and appreciate your sentiments, I do believe that our own four walls and a roof would lend me a certain amount of freedom to pursue what I want privately.” She said with a teasing wicked smirk.

“Oh? And what do you want to pursue privately, my Raphaella?” 

“Get me my own home and I’ll share those ideas with you.”

He laughed. “Alright, alright. You’re not playing fair, but I promise you will be the mistress of the Laurence household soon. 

– – – – – – 

Their home was called Parnassus. Amy had named it. It was right next to Jo’s house. Again, they were neighbours, but this time he was not looking through his window envious of the boisterous household opposite his youth, filled with laughter and warmth. He had his own now and nothing could compare to that. Their home was defined by the weather and meals. The mornings bright and cool. Birdsong in the air. The smell of freshly cut grass through the open windows. Coffee in the mornings, the smell of fresh fruit, the scrape of genuine silver knives on delicate china, spilt sugar on a blue linen tablecloth. 

Their evenings were made of country dinners, enlightened guests, sisters bickering and laughing at their years old inside jokes. Laurie now had the kind of house everyone wanted to be at, the home he wished he had grown up in. He had a wife that he was immensely proud of. While Laurie’s mood could inform the atmosphere of a dinner, it was Amy both men and women alike wanted to see. She had that composed, cool European sophistication that poor Concord didn’t know what to do with, so they in equal measure loved and loathed her. She rarely smiled brightly, but she still drew people in, coming across as friendly and relaxed, yet unattainable. Oh how they envied Theodore Laurence. He didn’t blame them. 

Now, as Laurie watched Amy at breakfast, throwing her head back and laughing with abandon with him, her laughter like applause, he felt a level of comfort that he had been searching for his entire life and here it was with Amy March.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: this chapter deals with miscarriage.

Summer. The stifling heat of the days never quite reaching Concord. When Laurie thought of Concord he thought of green. Foliage thick and shimmering. The lawn in front of his house was manicured. The trees surrounding it whistling and shimmering. After breakfast Laurie stood at the entrance of his house waiting for the carriage to be brought around. As he stood at the threshold, a searing memory entered his mind and he felt a stabbing pain in his chest at the unwanted memory. He immediately pushed the thought from his mind.

Hearing footsteps he looked back to see Amy as she crossed the foyer. The morning light bright. A shaft of white slanted through the window of the foyer. It cut a path, refracting on the wallpapered walls and the cool darkness of the hardwood floors. The ray caught Amy’s face as she crossed the foyer. The whiteness of the light illuminated her face, the rest of her in shade. Real life chiaroscuro. She smiled bright and soft. Unconcerned. She came to him. He felt captured by her.

“What?” She asked as she brought him his coat and his case with his papers. 

“Sometimes I wish that I could paint or maybe take a photograph. I want to hold a memory forever.” 

“What memory?” 

“I don’t know how to explain it.” It was like a dream, the image so fleeting, already in vapours. 

“Maybe you can play it for me. I can still catch your meaning if you do it like that.” 

Laurie’s heart swelled and he looked at his wife and felt like they had a cellular understanding of each other. She considered him as well. There was a pull. Laurie had read enough poetry to recognize a heightened moment. She felt it too, that frisson of erotic tension. Delicately with his index finger he tilted her chin up and leaned in to kiss her. Her lips parted in anticipation. 

“Oh Sir! Sorry to interrupt, but your carriage has arrived.” 

That was the butler, who stood stiffly looking at any direction but at Amy and Laurie. 

The moment broken, Laurie sighed and rolled his eyes and whispered to Amy, 

“I’m going to fire every single one of them if they keep this up.” 

Amy giggled. “Stop it. Enjoy your day and be safe.” She handed him his case and helped him into his coat. 

During his carriage ride Laurie replayed the images of his wife from this morning in his mind. Amy smiling down at him as she lay atop him, her hair messy and flowing, her smile carefree, inviting a challenge. She looking back at him and biting her bottom lip as she entered her dressing room, struggling to rein in her desire for him. Her clear arousal as he sucked the cream off of her finger – lips parted, pupils dilated. Her laughter generous and exploding. Her smile frozen in a shaft of slanted light. 

There was a time that he thought he would never see his wife smile again. Maybe that was why he focused so much on such images, always trying to remember them, encapsulating them in amber in some part of his mind. Such scenes invited comparison naturally. A juxtaposition of images, one a negative facsimile of the other, like a photograph. For every view of her smiling brightly this morning, his mind automatically brought up scenes of Amy crying, bawling, aching and howling in pain. Every look of pleasant joy was countered with the image of her eyes blank, despair seeping out of her, tears silently running down her face, her voice lost.

His third year of marriage was the most trying. Yet Concord never knew of their trials, no one did, not even Jo. The burden was on him and Amy alone. They had so many secrets in their third year of marriage, the secrets both spoken and unspoken in a marriage that no one could possibly know because they weren’t in the relationship with the Laurences. No they only saw the glamour and the love on top. They didn’t see the underneath, the bells and whistles of the gears that made a marriage work. He thought back to the events that led up to the third year anniversary and that horrible night. 

– – – – – – 

Jo had sat slumped on one of the armchairs, while Laurie and Fritz passed the time playing a game of chess. A fire was going. It was June but unseasonably cool. Fritz sipped on his aperitif of brandy. Laurie was already dressed in his tuxedo for the charity ball that he was attending with the exception of his jacket, sitting instead in his crisply starched black pants, low matching waistcoat and white shirt – fine and delicately plaited, his ascot a startling white, his patent leather boots gleaming.

“You look good, Teddy.” Jo sleepily commented. 

“Thank you.” He answered a bit distractedly as he finished up a move on the board, capturing Fritz’ rook with his knight. Fritz rubbed his beard in contemplation and Laurie looked up at Jo. “Now if only I had a woman on my arm to complement my good looks. What is taking your sister so long?” 

Jo and Fritz laughed. 

“You knew this when you married her. As a matter of fact, I seem to recall you saying that you liked her preening.” 

Laurie rolled his eyes to suppress his feelings of discomfort over how close Jo to came to realizing the extent of his love for Amy’s preening. 

“I have not known your wife long, Laurie, but even I know that Amy takes the greatest care in her appearance. I’m sure she’ll be worth the wait.” 

“She’s always worth the wait.” Laurie responded, but smiled inwardly at his double meaning. He was on edge. Amy had delayed his pleasure for almost two days now and he was privately going insane with delicious anticipation. 

Fritz took Laurie’s knight with his bishop before excusing himself to the bathroom. Laurie clicked his tongue in annoyance at the board, but he was glad for Fritz’ absence because he’d been meaning to speak to Jo. 

“What is going on with you? Why are you so tired? It’s only six-thirty. Is setting up the school that exhausting? Because if it is, you know you need only tell me and I will help you in whatever way you desire.” 

Jo smiled warmly at him, filled with gratitude. 

“Teddy, it appears that Fritz will be a father.” She blushed and fiddled with the pattern on the armchair before looking up at him tentatively awaiting his reaction. 

“Goodness! Jo, congratulations!” He made as if to get up, but thought better of it. 

Jo looked at him quizzically. “You know you never touch me anymore…” 

Laurie’s eyebrows nearly hit his scalp. “Excuse me?” He asked weakly as he looked around anxiously to ensure no one heard her to misinterpret her meaning. 

“Oh stop being crass! I mean like just now. You were coming to hug me, but you stopped yourself.” 

Laurie let out a relieved huff of laughter. He instantly remembered all of the times he casually threw his arm around Jo’s shoulders or even around her waist as they wrestled or maybe when he’d lean on her shoulder or excitedly take her hand in his to show her something. And she would forever be pushing or shoving him away, spinning away from him, playfully slapping away his hand. He smiled wistfully. 

“I know. Jo, we’re both married now. I have to be considerate of my wife’s feelings. Of Fritz’ feelings.” 

“You’re very thoughtful and grown up. When did that happen? It’s nice to see you making an effort tonight.” 

Laurie wasn’t actually making an effort, it just happened to turn out that way. Jo and Amy had been discussing lesson plans this afternoon when Jo decided that her husband’s input would be crucial and he was immediately called over from next door. They continued that way until around five in the afternoon. An early supper was being served since Laurie and Amy were heading to the ball in Boston. It was only right that he invited his sister-in-law and her husband to stay for the light supper. By the time he had finished getting dressed he was honestly surprised to see Jo and Friedrich still downstairs. While waiting for Amy he entertained himself with a game of chess. He assumed they were still here because Jo was waiting to see Amy’s dress, which Amy was being very secretive about. 

Laurie was closer to John than he was Fritz, but Fritz and John were fast becoming best friends. While Laurie had managed to expertly balance the relationship between his wife and her sister, he didn’t quite know how to approach Jo’s husband and he suspected Friedrich felt the same way. There was always a slight level of awkwardness in which Fritz came across almost like an outsider when Amy, Laurie and Jo got together. He didn’t know how to burst Jo’s bubble of him being thoughtful of Fritz. In honesty, he didn’t know how to relate to him at all. Laurie was not that wilfully obtuse to his past with Jo and nor did he imagine Fritz to be that magnanimous. In Laurie’s mind, it would be like if he started up his friendship again with Fred Vaughn. Or maybe he was reading too much into it and Fritz was simply reserved.

“You’ve really grown up, Teddy. We’re all growing up.” Her smile was half rueful, half nostalgic. “Can you believe that we’re married now? We own houses and we work. You have so much responsibility with your grandfather’s business. I’m trying to open a school.” 

“And you’re going to be a mother.” 

Jo said nothing, only staring off into the fire as she absently traced the pattern on the armchair. In that moment, the enormity of the distance they’d reached from their carefree childhoods and the looming uncertainty of their adult lives threatened to overwhelm them. It was surreal. 

“I haven’t told Amy yet. I don’t know how.” Jo said, breaking the feeling of freefalling. 

Laurie looked at her confusedly. “Why not? What do you mean you don’t know how?” 

Jo looked up at him, her countenance one of unexplained compassion and understanding. 

“Laurie, I know that you two have been having trouble.” 

“Having trouble with what?” Fritz asked as he re-entered the room. Laurie opened his mouth to answer that he didn’t know what trouble to which Jo was referring when Amy’s voice rang out from by the doorway behind them. 

“Who’s having trouble?” 

Laurie turned to see Amy standing near the doorway and his jaw dropped. Not many times had that happened to him in his life and for his wife to have that effect on him over two years into their marriage was astonishing to him. 

Her dress was nothing like he’d seen in Concord; not even during his years in Europe. The tightly-fitting bodice hugged her body. The neckline was low and the bodice tapered to accentuate her small waist. Where traditional dresses ballooned out at the waist, the corseted bodice on this was extended past the waist to emphasize the shape of her hips and display her natural curves. The skirt was full and sweeping, with a concentration of ruffles behind and culminating in a decent train of fabric. It was a sumptuous velvet moiré rendered in midnight blue that captured her perfectly in a provocative glamour. 

“Christopher Columbus! Amy you look amazing! Where did you get this dress? I’ve never seen anything like this in New York.” Jo said, flying up from the armchair with surprising agility given her state of near exhaustion just moments before. 

“You look very captivating, Amy.” Fritz complimented. 

But Amy had eyes only for her husband. 

“You don’t like it? It’s the latest designs out of Paris.” She asked worriedly, looking like she was already planning to return upstairs and remove the dress immediately. 

Amy didn’t realize that upon the sight of her Laurie’s brain short-circuited. The Lord acted in mysterious ways, Laurie thought, for if Jo and Fritz were not present, Laurie was positive that he would have ravaged Amy right then and there on the living room floor, new dress be damned. He managed to eke out a reassuring, tight-lipped smile to hide his feelings of debauched thirst for his wife.

“Amy, you look simply stunning.” He approached her and twirled her around and she preened in satisfaction at his attention. He neared to give her a kiss on her cheek and whisper, “My wicked little thing.” Amy smirked at him, but said nothing. 

“You almost make me want to go to this ball, just to see everyone’s reaction.” Jo said as she walked around Amy, scrutinizing her dress with appreciation. “Almost, but not quite. We should take our leave. You two enjoy it. I want every last detail when you get back. Wake me up early!” Jo exclaimed as she and Fritz left while Laurie helped Amy into her coat and then into the carriage. 

The night had been memorable. When Amy and Laurie walked into the ball they seemed to have sucked out all the air from the room from their sheer fabulousness. Every head turned in their direction. Amy liked nothing better. Her dance card had been half empty when she left home, with her husband’s name assured in the first slot, but five minutes after they arrived and it was completely filled. She was so well sought after that Laurie didn’t get a chance to speak with her until the ball had ended! 

In the carriage ride back home she prattled continuously about the ball and how much fun she had dancing with this one and that one and who was a terrible dancer and who was good and who was polite and kind and who was flirtatious and rude and how many invitations she received to other balls and who promised to call on her in Concord. 

Laurie sat and nodded and stared out the window. He wasn’t jealous, not really. He knew he had nothing to worry about and at the end of the day, he had received so many congratulatory claps on the back for being the luckiest husband in the world that he was assured he had nothing to worry about. Amy was going home with him. So what exactly was bothering him? He couldn’t say, but he was in a bit of a mood. Something was nagging at him. 

Amy eventually caught on to his mood and quieted. They arrived home sometime after two in the morning. The butler hurried to take their coats. 

“I’ll send Ethel to help you Mrs. Laurence.” Laurie shot Amy a sharp look and she immediately understood. 

At some point in time during the night the dynamic shifted in Laurie’s favour. 

“That’s not necessary. I can manage tonight. Let her sleep.” 

“Alright, well I’ll just finish assisting you Mr. Laurence.” 

“Umm, no that’s alright. You rest up. I can manage.” 

“Are you sure, sir?” 

Laurie looked at Amy’s retreating backside as she climbed the stairs. “Definitely. We should be able to give each other a helping hand tonight.” 

He knew that Amy and he were on the same page now, but still he made her wait a bit. He went to mix a nightcap and took his time about it too. 

By the time Laurie arrived upstairs he found Amy sitting in one of the armchairs near the window. She looked intrigued and hopeful. He closed the door behind him cautiously and good sense told him to lock it after himself. 

“Take off that dress.” Laurie quietly told her and he felt the tension in the room like the sudden fall in temperature. A small command like that and her pupils dilated in arousal. 

She immediately stood and came to stand in front of him, but he left her in the middle of the room to take up her seat near the window, making quite a show of being unbothered.

“Slowly. Let me see you.” 

A lot of Laurie and Amy’s interactions took place between what was said. Complex decisions and explanations were comprehended with a quick look in her eye, a duck of his head, a squeeze of a hand. How had they gotten to this point with such a clear understanding of what each other needed? From their first night to now, nothing was ever said out loud. Not once did they ever come out and say out loud, ‘I like it when you…’ The answer was simple. They paid attention to each other, acutely. It was what made him propose to her in the first place. “You know why,” he had told her. And though he had not accounted for her insecurities with her sister when he returned to her, one look at her and he knew that Amy was still in love with him. They always paid acute attention to each other after that. Laurie only realized the cause for his dipped mood when she was standing naked in front of him. If Amy wanted his attention, then he would give it to her. 

“Get on the bed. Lie down.” 

Amy complied surprisingly easily. Maybe because she knew she wanted this as much as he needed it. She deliberately crawled up onto the bed, allowing him a spectacular view of her backside before she took up her position in the middle. Always such a tease, he noted with equal parts satisfaction and regret that she didn’t yet know when to stop teasing him. Laurie loosened his ascot and walked over to her, setting his drink on the bedside table. Amy opened her mouth to complain that he wasn’t using a coaster, but he shook his head at her and she immediately hushed. He leaned over her to blindfold her with his ascot. 

There was no movement for a while as Laurie simply admired his wife’s body with a penetrating absorption. She began to squirm under his unrelenting gaze. Her vulnerability was severe. She was exposed to him, but she liked it. Just the thought of being unveiled to him so completely and him being able to do whatever he wanted had her trembling with anticipation. Her nipples were hard, her breathing became heavy. She bit her lip. 

“My lord?” 

Laurie smiled at her careful eagerness and got up to go into his dressing room where he returned with another cravat. He could see her tilting her head, straining for any idea of what he was doing. Laurie sat back down on the bed and took her arms to raise them above her head, tying them together with the cravat. He leaned over her, letting his breath caress her lips for a moment. She instinctively tried to press her body into his. He pushed her back down, forcing her to still. She responded with needy whimpers. 

“My Raphaella, if it’s my attention that you crave please know that you will always have it. If I have been remiss tonight allow me to reconcile my faults and attend to you the way I know you deserve.” 

Laurie took a piece of ice from the glass and rubbed it around the pert nipple of Amy’s right breast just to see the rise of goosebumps and then dragged it down past her stomach and lower still to let the coldness sting the split between her legs. Amy moaned in frustrated delight. 

“My lord please…” 

“Don’t worry darling. I’ll take care of you.” 

– – – – – – 

They awoke later to the sun already peeking through behind the drapes. They had slept in and missed church. It was one of those deep sleeps, nearest to death he supposed, borne out of pure satisfaction and exhaustion. Their limbs felt heavy yet loose with indulgence, that sense of being open and undone after a night of intense pleasure. Usually, they would have gotten up, washed up and slipped into their night shirts before returning to bed. But last night Amy felt unable to walk afterwards, her muscles feeling jelly-like by the time Laurie had finished with her. Her mind was blank, filled only with sensations rippling through her. She fell asleep right there, snoring deeply, which Laurie knew she’d deny to her grave. When she woke she turned to him with a smile of fulfilment. 

“Good morning. Are you feeling better, my lord? Has what was troubling you left you?” 

Laurie gave her a dampened smile. He had needed to strip bare any artifices that were between them and now the time had come to review what remained below. She understood that, so he told her plainly. 

“Why did you tell Jo that we’re having trouble conceiving?”

Her smile faltered. “I didn’t. She probably put two and two together.” 

“To get five of course.” 

“Why would she say that?” 

“Jo is pregnant. She’s trying to figure out how to tell you and not upset you.” 

“Oh. I’m very happy for her.” She said with all of the excitement that she could muster, which was about just under an acceptable amount. 

“Are you?” 

“I am. I truly am. It’s just…” She began to gently rub at her wrist which was reddened from the bindings last night. Laurie took her wrist in his hand, looking over it carefully. 

“Does it hurt?” 

She took back her hand and dismissed his concern, continuing to rub at her wrist somewhat possessively. 

“Do you think something is wrong? It’s been almost two years. Jo has only been married a month or so. Meg immediately conceived after she was married.” He carefully laid down his fears. They never spoke of this. To admit it into the ether was to court the possibility that Jo was right, that they were having trouble. But he was too happy, they were so happy. How could they be having trouble? 

“I don’t know. It’s not from lack of trying. Do you think that perhaps God is punishing us?” She looked at the red marks on her delicate wrists.

“Because we missed church this morning? That’s kind of extreme.”

“No, be serious. I mean, because of our…habits. Is what we do normal?” 

“Well I wouldn’t know because I don’t go around asking other people what they do behind their bedroom doors. I won't walk into the club and ask Thomas if his wife teases him for days on end and when he can't take it anymore does he strap her to the bed and have his way with her until she can't remember her name."

"Well I would think you'd greet Thomas a good morning before you launched into that."

Laurie stifled a laugh and gave Amy a look of amused exasperation. " I suppose anything done in the marriage bed should be more than permissible, I think.”

“Maybe we should try more.” 

“More than we already do? It wouldn’t have enough hours in the day, but that’s not a complaint you’ll hear from me.” 

She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Be serious.” 

“There’s nothing to be done.” He admitted with a detached realism. 

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” She responded, her eyes dulled. 

Gently he said, “Darling, we may have to accept that it may not be possible for us.” 

Amy got up and sat on the edge of the bed, her bare back to him. He could see the amalgam of fine freckles scattered across her skin. She immediately dragged the sheet around her body, blocking his view as she got up to go get dressed for the day. Laurie felt bereft. 

– – – – – – 

They told themselves that they’d forgotten about it; that they’d accepted it, but they couldn’t lie to each other. She could see it in his eyes when Jo brought his hand to her stomach to feel the swell, he could feel it in the way she gripped onto him when he came into her, wrapping her legs around him, letting him linger. 

What had changed? Nothing really, the fear was always there, just unspoken, not even between what was said. But Jo had managed to break the one barrier on things they didn’t discuss, the one forbidden grey area in their marriage. “ _I know that you’ve been having trouble._ ” Laurie still refused to believe it. There was no trouble between him and Amy. They were fine. 

And they absolutely were fine because miraculously God was on their side. She came down the stairs to breakfast late one morning, beaming. 

“Well you look like the cat that’s gotten the cream. Do tell, my Raphaella.” 

“I’ve been sick.” She said, smiling widely. 

Laurie looked at her with concern as he buttered his toast. “Not usually a celebratory cause... You should be in bed; you might be getting the virus.” 

“It’s also been about two months since I last bled.” 

Laurie stared at Amy blankly as his brain reconciled what she was saying. He’d noticed things, but dared not hope. Her breasts seemed heavier, her nipples darker and more sensitive. Her constant headaches and feelings of nausea. He dismissed it as him being too hopeful. 

“Wait, the night of the ball? Are you sure?” 

She nodded eagerly. 

Laurie practically launched himself across the breakfast table to envelop her in a hug. He couldn’t stop kissing her. Tears of joy and inexplicable shrieks of laughter followed.  
Were they blocking their blessings all this time by not discussing the matter openly? Or was it their sheer desperation bleeding through that changed the tide in their favour? Or maybe the Lord was sick and fed up of their feverish, nagging prayers. Whichever it was, they were finally achieving their dreams of having a family of their own.

They told no one, though he figured Jo was suspicious of Amy who couldn’t stop smiling when she felt well enough. Since Amy didn’t want anyone to know as yet she tried her best to proceed as normal. She set up classes and helped Jo write letters. She made her social calls and was even continuing along with planning the dinner parties that she and Laurie regularly hosted. The only problem was that Amy seemed to be getting sicker and sicker as the weeks went by. She no longer was ill only in the mornings, but nausea persisted all day, sometimes resulting in her being violently sick. The cramps in her stomach were getting harder to ignore. 

“Is this normal?” He asked in concern as Amy lay curled up in bed, clutching her stomach. 

“The midwife said that yes, I’ll get cramps sometimes.”

Laurie didn’t know how to respond. He was worried, but he couldn’t talk to Amy about it because she was so determined to present as if everything was normal. She simply refused to hear any possible negative talk. He couldn’t talk to Jo about it either because Amy didn’t want anyone knowing before she completed the first three months of her pregnancy. He was told it was wrong to let anyone know before three months. And so, he kept his fears to himself. 

“Here’s what. Rest up.” Amy protested and tried to get up, despite her face being the definition of pain. “Amy, no. You have to stay in bed today. I will handle everything. You may come down later to greet the guests, but for now, stay in bed.” 

She fell back down, a bit relieved, and that’s when he realized just how much pain she was in. He stifled the worry he felt. If he continued as if normal, then everything will be normal. 

The day was committed to planning. He sorted the menu, confirmed the guest list, adjusted the seating arrangements, chose the floral arrangements, ordered the flowers, decided on the wines to be served, even the type of linen to be placed and figured out what would be the thought-provoking ice-breaker of a question he would pose to his guests to get the discussions going. He was amazed to realize that this took him all day. 

When the first guest arrived, Laurie stood at the foyer to greet them with his wife standing right next to him as if she felt fine. But if one looked closely, one would see the tremble in her hands, the way her smile was tight and did not reach her eyes, her breathing deep and intensely controlled. 

“Amy…” 

“I’m fine.” And she walked off to help settle the guests. 

Midway through the after dinner apertifs and discussions, Amy excused herself. Laurie tracked her movements until she disappeared through the drawing room. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, then a half-hour, then an hour later she re-emerged to quietly sit in a corner and stare a hundred yards in front of her, not hearing anything of the conversation around her. Her face was a ghastly white and with one look Laurie knew. He felt his heart plummet. He immediately contrived a reason to get rid of his guests.  
When the last guest left he returned to the drawing room to see her still sitting amongst the detritus of the party, staring into the fire. The flickering flame cast huge shadows, illuminating her grimly. Tears ran down her face. 

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

And so they didn’t. He only pulled up another chair next to hers and held her hand as they stared at the fire. 

– – – – – – 

Christmas morning. Orchard House rosy with warmth. Outside white and still. Laurie and Amy arrived with gifts for everyone. Breakfast was forgotten. The twins shrieked in delight. Meg was pure joy as she opened her present of a new gown from Amy. John smiled in understanding when Laurie gifted him with tickets to the ballet in New York. Jo sat in a corner, big as a house. She insisted the tree be put up, despite it being Christmas morning already. She looked luminous with joy. Amy’s gifts to Jo were extravagant. Laurie understood why. 

The girls helped Hannah prepare the late lunch/early dinner. Laurie saw Amy settling sprigs of thyme around a massive roast. The kitchen was rowdy, everyone talking over each other. They were wives now and Meg and Jo and Marmee and Hannah argued over the best method for a roast beef. Amy was quiet, her attention far away. Someone had said something funny moments ago and she had laughed, but now the smile lingered though her eyes were distant. Far from looking happy, she looked miserable. Laurie quietly slipped out the back door. 

He walked past his old house which was quiet and dark; his grandfather had returned to London. His footsteps crunched loudly on the snow during this terrible stillness that overtook the day after breakfast on Christmas morning. He fished in his pocket, and like a thief, he looked around cautiously before he pulled out his cigar case. His amble was intended to end up near the old tree with the little door cut into it. He was more than a little surprised to see Fritz already sitting there on a tree stump, puffing on a thin cigarette.

“Fritz?” Friedrich looked up startled. “I didn’t know that you smoked.” 

“Neither does Jo and I’d like to keep it that way.” Laurie wanted to laugh, but stifled it instead. “What about you?” 

Laurie held up his cigar. “They are sisters after all.” He could see the tension leave Fritz’ body. Laurie walked over to him and leaned up against the tree as he went about lighting his cigar. He swirled the smoke around his mouth and exhaled a bit through his nose and mouth in order to smell as well as taste the smoke. The flavour was sweet and peppery. 

“Are you and Amy alright?” 

Laurie’s attention snapped back to Fritz. He had almost forgotten him there and his reminder was unwelcomed. 

“Why do you ask?” 

“You two…you’re very tactile. Affection comes easy to you both. You never realized that?” 

Laurie looked somewhat alarmed. Fritz hurried to pacify his concerns. “Oh no, you’re not obscene. It’s subtle. But I couldn’t help but notice recently, especially today, that you both seem distant.” 

“We’re fine.” They were not fine. In that moment he resented Fritz. What exactly did this man want him to confess? Did he want him to admit that Amy was reeling from another miscarriage just about a month ago? Did he want him to say that his wife cried every day for three weeks and the last seven days had reduced her to miserable numbness? Should he say that he was now terrified to touch her? Should he confess that he regretted his prayers for Amy to be pregnant? Should he admit that he was envious of how easy Jo was carrying her child? Should he admit that both he and Amy were happy for Jo and Fritz, but also tired of pretending that they were happy when their own happiness kept being snatched away from them in nights of cramping and haemorrhaging? Should he explain how they felt incredibly guilty for feeling this way? Or maybe he should explain that he no longer knew how to approach his wife and the idea was terrifying him. 

“We’re good. We’re really good.” Laurie took a nervous drag from the cigar, letting the smoke billow out in hollow circles that mirrored how he felt. Fritz looked at him, but mercifully saved him from emotional slaughter, instead putting the focus on himself. 

“I’m nervous.” Fritz admitted quietly. “Things go wrong all of the time. I’m not sure what kind of father I will be. I’m not sure that I’m ready. This is monumental. I wake at night from terrible dreams that I might lose her. I wake feeling like I might stifle under all the weight of responsibility.” 

Laurie was wholly unprepared for this disarmament. Maybe it was the suddenness of the confession or that his emotions were so close to the surface that anyone could have poked at him and his true feelings would seep out. Or maybe he was simply being polite, for he confessed quietly, 

“I’m afraid that I may lose my wife. I cannot carry on without her, but I cannot reach her.” 

“We all have our troubles and our fears. You are not alone.”

The two men said nothing further and Laurie was grateful that he wasn’t asked to elaborate. He appreciated Fritz being so non-judgmental. Maybe what they needed was to say these feelings to another soul, but in a time and place where they didn’t exist. The woods were still, the hours deliquescent in this bubble of time. They walked back in silence. 

The entire house smelled lovely of roast beef. The girls were still sat in the kitchen. Jo was around the table helping to shell peas and Friedrich came to greet her. She smiled brightly as he brought his hand to her stomach. Laurie looked at Amy and gave her a tentative smile, but she turned her head away and refocused on shelling the peas in front of her. Embarrassed, he looked up to see Fritz giving him an apologetic yet reassuring smile. Laurie didn’t know if to feel comforted or caught out. 

– – – – – – 

Later, Parnassus was still and empty on Christmas night with only Amy and Laurie in their house like two peas rattling in a pod. When they returned, they immediately went to their respective dressing rooms. He removed his jacket and scarf, vest and shoes and socks to pad silently into the bathroom. Wordlessly, he drew her a warm bath then tended to the fire in their bedroom. The room was dark, the bed icy cold. He moved the armchair nearer the fire and sat looking as dishevelled as his mind. He stared into the depths of the fire, memories assailing him. Eventually, Amy emerged from her dressing room clothed in her long, flowing silk nightgown; her lace-trimmed robe open and billowing. She came to sit at his feet, resting her head on his lap. He was shocked at this development. 

He felt like he didn’t know how to respond. He creaked open his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Before they needed no words, but now they had none to spare.

“I’m sorry.” She said. She absently rubbed at his right knee, making little concentric circles. Laurie remembered Fritz noting that affection came easy to him and Amy. “My lord, tell me what is on your mind.” 

Laurie dragged out a sigh that seem to rise up from the depths of his soul and in a huff he blurted out, “I’m terrified.” 

Amy heaved out a sardonic laugh. “I feel terrified of disappointing you.” 

“You could never.” 

“My body keeps throwing away what you give me and I don’t know why. I know that you want a family of your own and I keep disappointing you. I’m terrified of your resentment. You’ve been so distant.” She clutched at the fabric of his trousers as she made her confession. Laurie felt her words like a sting.

“I keep hurting you. I don’t want to keep hurting you.” 

She turned prostrate to face him. “I’m so ashamed. Please don’t judge me, but I miss you. I miss you terribly. I just want to make you happy.” He could see the desperation in her eyes as she balled the fabric of his pants into her tight fist. 

“You don’t have to.” 

She began to rub her hands up and down his legs, feverish in her desire to touch him. With focus she began unbuttoning his pants. “But that’s the thing. I want to. I really want to and it shames me so much. How could I in this time of grief be thinking of you? The thoughts I have are so impure. I want you. I need you. I just want any part of you. I feel so weighed down by shame. Just make me light. Make me feel light like you always do. I need any part of you. I miss you. I want all of you or any of you. I just want you.” 

“Amy –” 

He didn’t get time to stop her before she was taking his cock in her mouth, whole and all the way down to the root. His hands paused on her shoulder, initially to stop her, but now to encourage her. His toes curled around the thick weft of the carpet and he felt his mind going blank enough to comprehend what she wanted. She had lost a piece of him and now she wanted him back. She wanted him always in any form. She wanted him close to her, above and below her and inside her and she felt guilty for it. Was is it not wrong to want to consume someone and be in turn consumed by them? There must be a limit to the love you had for another. 

Now her forearms were on the carpet, her elbows and knees sinking into the rug. He was behind her, taking his time, his rhythm at first slow and devastating and deep. She felt like she was going insane with her need of him and he felt it. Not in so many words she had managed to share her thoughts and meanings with him. He felt it like she had transferred it to him mentally and they were now sharing more than just a physical space, but an emotional synchronicity was established. 

He felt that roiling current of anxiety ebbing away. They could beat this. They were indestructible. It was fuelled by the validation that they were on the same page. They wanted the same things. They were not in any trouble. They were fine and this time he meant it. He felt drowned in her. He gave her what she wanted, what they both needed until the muscles in her legs twitched and he felt his pulse beating in his ears. 

– – – – – – 

August. The night of their third anniversary. The night was warm, but comfortably so. They’d had a dinner party earlier. Everyone had congratulated them. It was their first party in months. “You are so blessed.” “You have a glow to you, Mrs. Laurence.” They loved her smile and elegance. They admired her happiness. They wanted to be in her aura. He could feel their envious stares on his back. She was five months and it was their third year anniversary. They celebrated. 

The night ended late, near one in the morning. Laurie was quite drunk and fell asleep heavily and easily with his pants on and his shirt halfway off. He’d had way too much champagne. 

“Laurie! Laurie!” 

He woke dazed, flying up, confused and halfway between sleep and wake, his mind like cotton. He looked to the left of him, but her side was empty. The sheets were tangled and blood stained. He was instantly alert. 

“Laurie!” 

Her voice chilled him and a terror gripped him from behind his navel. He catapulted himself from the bed and skated into the bathroom. She was on the ground near the tub with her knees drawn up. Her peach nightgown doing nothing to help her now paled colouring. One hand was clutching her stomach and the other was between her legs. Blood was everywhere on the floor. He rushed to her side and his bare feet skidded on the now slick tiles. He ended in a graceless heap next to her. His eyes mirrored hers in fear. 

“Come on, come on.” He said as he put his arm under her legs and encouraged her to hold onto him as he lifted her up. She buried her face in his neck and wailed, “It hurts so bad! It’s hurts so bad!” 

Frantically he ran out of the bathroom, briefly struggling to open their bedroom door as his hand was now wet and slippery with blood and his nerves conspired to betray him. 

“Get the carriage! Someone get the carriage!” He shouted. He couldn’t move fast enough, like he was in a dream, running in water, but he had to be careful going down the stairs. 

At the door the butler met him, alarmed at the sight of the blood stained couple. He immediately turned to get the carriage ready. 

Agonizing minutes went by as he stood on the threshold with Amy in his arms in a twisted, horror parody of a newlywed couple returning from honeymoon. Her breathing was erratic and she was bawling in pain. He could feel blood from her running down the front of his pants and dropping on his legs. There was so much blood and he was terrified to look down at her. He was too busy praying. Loudly and fervently he begged and promised and threatened and fawned and repeated the process. But in his heart he knew. He knew this was the end. They had arrived at that terminal space. This was their third angel they were losing and now he may lose his wife too. Laurie felt his knees begin to buckle but he had to stay strong as he was carrying Amy. He prayed and prayed, but he knew that they were in trouble now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was very difficult for me to write. It was emotionally intense and when I was finished I felt like I had been holding a breath. It's a heavy chapter, but I am interested to know what you think. 
> 
> The next chapter will focus on Laurie and Amy dealing with their trauma and trying to move forward.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurie and Amy try to pick up the pieces and dare to hope after surviving the trauma of a violent miscarriage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is long, so settle in.

Tiredly, Laurie stepped out of the carriage, his bare feet unevenly assaulted by the gravel walkway. He was the one who had wanted the gravel as it reminded him of Anna and Jurgen’s house in Vevey, Switzerland. A house was definitely not just four walls and a roof, but it was held together by memories and dreams, fears and responsibilities, reminders and traditions. Such cruel memories and fears had formed part of the mortar and foundations of his house in just a few hours. Beleaguered, he opened his front door and waited for a few moments for the most recent memories to assail him. He stood still for a few bewildering moments as he stared at the spotless entryway. The floorboards were dark stained hardwood that gleamed and smelled faintly of vinegar and lemon. Not a speck of blood. He looked up at the staircase leading from the foyer and the runner was still a spotless dark grey. The only remnants of the morning’s earlier trauma were a few darkened spots on the carpet that were fast drying in the slowly rising heat of August.

With weary steps he made his way to his bedroom, his heart clenching as he opened the door, but again there was nothing to remind him. The bed was made with fresh linen, the carpet was cleaned and when he closed the door behind him he noticed even the doorknob was no longer slick with blood. He entered the bathroom cautiously, still convinced despite all evidence to the contrary, expecting a replay of the images he endured just hours before. But there was no Amy sitting in a corner near the tub, crying and bleeding and helpless. There was only the tub, his shaving stand, the sink, the shelves full of spotless white towels, the screen that blocked the toilet. They had spent so much money on this bathroom. Amy had been very specific when she said that she wanted the latest and the best. She had wanted Parnassus to be her sanctuary in everything and he had agreed with her. A home should be a place of comfort. He thought nothing of the cost, for he wanted her to be happy, for if she was happy then he was happy. 

Laurie closed his eyes and shook his head as if to rid of a pesky mosquito. He reopened them and saw nothing but cleanliness, but was that…was that blood he could smell? He sniffed at his shirt? It had to have been that. He immediately stripped. He forcefully shoved the clothes into the wastebasket near the toilet. Maybe later he’ll burn it. He turned on the tap in the tub and icy cold water gushed out. He didn’t have the luxury of time to ask Ethel to warm up water from the kitchen (a gas heater was one thing Amy did not want after hearing of the near mishap that happened to Mrs. Turnbull when her heater exploded, and besides Ethel had done enough given how spotless everything was, like it never happened…) and so he sunk into the tub with the icy water rapidly filling up. It was strongly suggested by the doctor that he go home and wash up and maybe have a drink of water while they waited for Amy to wake from her surgery. Laurie had nodded agreeably, bobbing his head like a buoy in unruly waves. He was grateful for the instruction. Anyone could have come into the doctor’s home, slapped their hands together and say, here’s what we’re going to do, and Laurie would have done it too. He felt absolutely lost. Never had he felt so fatuous as when he was standing in the doctor’s surgery looking at his wife’s pale, bloodied form stretched out on a bed with stark white sheets.

He splashed water on his face in a desperate attempt to wash away the memory. Furiously he scrubbed his hands with soap, making sure to get under the nails. And then he noticed the bandage around the crook of his right arm. He unravelled it and distractedly threw it on the floor only to see his veins looking purple and bruised. It was tender to the touch. For one mad moment he felt his emotions bubbling up under the surface and he stifled it. With a deep breath he plunged his head under the water, his eyes open all this time, the weightlessness and the nothingness surrounding him momentarily calmed him. Reluctantly, he emerged. He didn’t have time to be mucking about pretending he was drowning when he could have that experience for free in his mind. 

Stepping out of the bath, he had reached the door before he remembered to unplug the tub or Amy would have a fit with him. And there it was again, those emotions pushing against his eyes and chest as he leaned over to take out the plug. He felt like he was going to keel over right there in the tub. Another deep breath to center himself. Another one because one was clearly not enough anymore. Distractedly he padded from the bathroom to his dressing room, not bothering to dry off, again noting that Amy would have his head for “dropping water all over the carpet! You’re going to turn here into a swamp! Why do you think they’re towels and robes in the bathroom? It isn’t for decoration!” 

But Amy wasn’t here to quarrel with him, now was she? 

He smirked ruefully and the tears sprung up unexpectedly. He tilted his head back as he put on his linen underwear and white linen shirt. When he felt secure that no treacherous tears were going to betray him he hurriedly put on his knitted socks and cotton trousers, pulling up the suspenders with a snap. Taking up a black necktie he could go no further as an image, unbidden, came to him like a flash – the pink ligature marks on Amy’s wrists, the delicate moan of pleasure as her body arched, her sight blocked by his necktie around her eyes, her lips pouty with pleasure as she begged him for more, “My lord, please.” The memory mixed with fingers gripping onto his wrists, her eyes squeezed shut as she gritted her teeth in pain. He’d had to peel her vice-like fingers off of his wrists. “Please don’t leave me. My lord, please.” He had to placate her with, “I’ll be back soon, I promise. I have to get the doctor.” 

The exhaustion hit him with a force that caused his knees to buckle and his chest to feel like it was caving in. He stumbled out of the dressing room and sat heavily, heaving on the bed. He took up the pillow and screamed into it. He screamed and screamed and screamed until his throat felt raw and he felt like he was going to suffocate himself with the pillow. 

“Teddy?” 

Laurie looked up startled, unsure if he was hearing things. There was a knock. “Teddy? May I come in? It’s Jo.” 

Before he got a chance to answer the door was opening and there was Jo standing on the threshold of his bedroom looking worriedly at him sitting on the edge of his bed clutching a pillow like a lifeline. 

“Jo, what are you doing here? It’s half-five in the morning.” He felt like he was in a strange dream. 

“I was up and heard the carriage pull up. I thought I heard your voice. I looked out and I…well I swore you looked... Is everything alright? Where’s Amy?” 

It was so very strange for Jo to be in his bedroom and he sensed that she thought the same. She stood at the threshold, unwilling to cross the inner sanctum he shared with her sister. However, far from being curious as to how he privately lived with Amy, her eyes bored into his, her focus like a bloodhound, settling on sniffing out what was wrong. Where was he returning from at five in the morning? Where was her sister? 

“Amy’s had an accident.” Understatement of the year, he privately thought. 

“An accident?” 

“She umm…the doctor, he had to umm…” He closed his eyes to calm the rapid beating of his heart. There was that feeling of his heart sinking into his chest, beating a crater straight through past his ribs and out his back. 

_“How far along?” the doctor asked him._

_“What?” Laurie asked dazedly._

_“How far along is she?”_

_“Uhh…five months.”_

_“Hmm…She should really be in the hospital…but I suppose…”_

_“What?”_

_“I can’t save the child.”_

_“Can you save her?”_

_“I’m going to have to take the foetus out. She’s lost a lot of blood. I’ve stopped the bleeding for now, but I’ll need to replace that blood. Give me your arm.”_

_“Will she be alright?”_

_“She should really be in the hospital…”_

_“But will she be alright?!”_

He took another deep breath. “She’s fine now. She’s still at the doctor’s. They may move her to Massachusetts General. But we umm…he had to take the child, but he couldn’t save... The baby didn’t survive.” 

Jo clapped her hands over her mouth. She ran to him and enveloped him in a hug. “Teddy why didn’t you call me?!” She pulled away and slapped him hard on the arm as she sat next to him on the bed.

“Ow! Because it was two o’clock in the morning! I had to act fast!” 

“I meant when you got back.” 

“Well you’re here now, aren’t you?!” 

“No thanks to your consideration.” 

“But all thanks to you being a nosy neighbour.” 

“It’s not nosy if it’s my sister and you involved.” Laurie’s heart melted a bit with that. “Oh Teddy, I don’t know what to say.” She hugged him again. 

He was grateful, but what he really wanted was a hug from Amy. The ones where he felt like he could stay there forever, like he could never let her go. 

“It was a girl.” He said with a level of cool detachment as if this knowledge was not tearing a searing memory in his mind. 

“Oh Teddy.” She rubbed his back. “How’s Amy?” 

“She’s resting. I don’t think she even knows…”

“Oh this could break her.” Jo whispered with a dreaded realization. “How did this happen?” 

Indeed, how did this happen? This was unlike the two pregnancies before. She didn’t have the painful cramping and heavy haemorrhaging in the early months like before. They thought they were safe. But yesterday, before the party, he was slightly worried when she told him that she noticed she’d begun to bleed, but it was light, unlike the times before. It was nothing to worry about, she dismissed it with false hope. It was so light and there was no feeling of nausea or cramping; none of the signs like before. Amy felt fine. They had even passed the dreaded three month mark. They thought they were safe. She went about her business. He still threw the party where he got drunk like an ass! He was so oblivious of what was to come. Oh what a fool he had been! He should have told her to stay in bed. Laurie opened his mouth to tell Jo, but found that he didn’t have the courage. Instead he muttered, 

“I’m heading back to the doctor’s.” 

“I’ll come with you.” 

Laurie knew for a fact that Amy would simultaneously be grateful for and resentful of Jo’s presence in this time. She would be polite and thankful for the comfort of the familiarity of family, but he would be there to provide that as her husband. Jo was her sister and they had an indestructible bond built over years formed by arguments and makeups and jealousies and sharing. Laurie was her husband and the bond he shared with Amy was intimate and personal and no one could ever know how close they were as they shared with each not just their bodies, but their secrets, their bad habits, their shameful behaviours, their dreams and disappointments. Amy would be obliged to have a woman there who would intimately understand womanly problems of this nature, but Jo had never had this particular problem. No, only Amy and Laurie had shared the agonizing pain of losing not one, not two, but three children in the space of about twelve months. His bond with Amy was a bond that went beyond the female understanding of cramping and haemorrhaging, but inextricably tied husband and wife together emotionally and mentally. But he couldn’t refuse Jo, because while Amy may be a bit resentful of her sister’s presence, her sister with her breezy pregnancy and now healthy baby boy, Laurie needed the support, even if it was just to get him back through the doctor’s door. He would never abandon his wife, but he honestly didn’t know if he had the strength to face her. How long had he been passed out drunk on the bed while she called out for him? 

“Teddy? Teddy?” 

His attention snapped back up to Jo who was looking at him with deep concern. 

“Where’d you go, my boy?” She moved a damp curl away from his face.

He gave her a watery and weary smile. He couldn’t let Jo see him slipping into despair, even though he was falling headlong into it. Feeling ashamed and defeated Laurie managed to scrounge up enough self-respecting bravado to ask for help in a roundabout way: “Help me pack a few of her things to take to the doctor. He said that as soon as she’s able to walk, she could come home in about a couple of days. She could rest up here thereafter.” 

Jo looked at him, already knowing, but to her credit she only smiled and said, “Sure.” 

“Her dressing room is through that door on the other side of the bed.” She immediately got up and Laurie hurried to his own dressing room where he shut the door behind him and slid down to the ground. He felt an exhaustion deep within his bones. He let the tears fall freely.

* * *

October. A windy day. Sunday services due in ten minutes. Amy emerged from her dressing room dressed in a light blue silk and cotton day dress with lace trim.

“How do I look?” 

“Gorgeous.” Laurie said genuinely from his seat on the armchair near the window. He propped up his head with his fist and gave her a serene smile. 

Amy huffed out a nervous breath as she put her hands on her waist. She hurried back into her dressing room. From his position he could see her staring at herself in the mirror, fretting, turning this way and that. 

“I haven’t worn a corset this tight in months. It feels queer yet familiar.” 

“You’re fussing.” 

“Yes, well I wouldn’t be this nervous if you didn’t tell everyone that I had scarlet fever. Now I’m going to have to lie. In church.” 

“I didn’t tell everyone that you had scarlet fever. I told Mrs. Turnbull you had scarlet fever. I told Mrs. Johnson that you had typhoid fever. I told Mrs Merlson that you went to New York to teach art. And I told Mrs. Campbell that you went to Europe to take care of your sick Aunt March.” 

Amy turned to look at him in muted, but amused alarm as she struggled to stifle a laugh. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Why would you do that? Why are you so mischievous?” 

“Would you preferred if I had told them the truth?” He asked with a bit of exasperation. 

She softened. “Obviously not, but I would have preferred if you didn’t have me juggling four different stories.” She sighed and came to him as she put on her gloves.

“Yes, but you could handle it.” 

Amy smiled sadly. “You’ve been here cooped up in this house with me too long. I’m sorry. I know that you’ve done so much. The burden has been heavy on you, I know.” 

“On the contrary, my Raphaella.” He dismissed her acknowledgements. 

“My lord, I’m serious. I cannot ignore everything you’ve done. You’ve been working from home and taking care of me. I know it’s taken a toll on you. You’re not sleeping. You get irritated easily. You’ve lost so much weight and you know you don’t have much to lose.” 

He clicked his tongue in annoyance and stared out the window. Here was his wife who for weeks couldn’t get out of bed, even after her physical wounds had healed. She seemed mired in a permanent gloom and it spread through the entire house like a miasma. She was the one who had a literal scar across her stomach and a hidden one, deep in her heart, like a fissure. He slept next to her or rather he laid next to her while they both pretended to sleep. He initially comforted her when she cried, but after a while he realized that she wanted to know he was present, but not available. And so when her tears rolled down her face and she quietly sniffled, he said nothing and did nothing as he tried to get the timing right. If he reached out to her too early, she grew irritable and pushed him away, wanting to wallow in her suffering by herself. If he did nothing at all she grew more distant and reproachful, blaming him for not noticing. He took whatever treatment she gave him, because it was better than nothing. Sometimes, when he felt particularly wounded, he wondered whether she was punishing him in some passive way, but his empathetic common sense usually prevailed and he understood that she was simply trying to cope with the ruins of that fateful night. She was the one that suffered, not him. It was unfair of her to try to be soothing his concerns and he was not egotistical enough to allow her.  
He turned back to look at her. “Amy, I’m fine. Really. Are you sure you’re able to deal with everyone today?”

She nodded stiffly and reached out her hand to him. He took it, noting the melancholy behind her eyes, but said nothing.

* * *

Church was disastrous. They had purposely arrived late to sit as unobtrusively as possible in the back pews. He’d seen the coven of Mesdames Turnbull, Johnson, Merlson and Campbell in their usual spots in the back of the church, a strategic position no doubt designed to allow them first access to the Reverend as he stood to greet the worshippers after service. Their heads swivelled and their eyes bulged in curdled glee to see the return of the young and enviably good-looking Laurences. Laurie’s intentions with the conflicting stories was for the old bats to realize that they’d been played and to take a hint that he didn’t want them knowing his private business, but far from being deterred, he seemed only to inspire them to further shove their noses down into the dirt in their quest for gossip. They cornered the couple after church. Amy was polite and patient, but Laurie couldn’t help but notice that she seemed acutely embarrassed at how the old ladies kept looking towards her flattened stomach. His words became sardonic and biting but hidden under the very thin veneer of his gorgeous smile. Until he could take it no more and he dispensed with the pretty smile and all that was left were his sharp words. 

“Don’t worry Mrs. Laurence, these things happen. But we must prevail. Keep trying. There is no greater bond than the love a mother could bestow on her child.” Mrs Turnbull said. 

“Oh Mrs Turnbull I’m sure the only person capable of loving you is your mother.” Laurie said. 

Their mouths dropped at his naked derision. “Do enjoy your day, ladies.” He tipped his head to the shocked old biddies as he pulled Amy along to their waiting carriage.

The look that Amy gave him could freeze oil. Oh boy, he’d really done it now.

* * *

“I can’t believe you would say something like that! What is wrong with you?! I’ve never been so embarrassed!” She chastised as the carriage slowed to a stop at Meg and John’s house just two minutes later. 

“Really? What about New Year’s Eve when I thoroughly embarrassed you in front of Fred Vaughn?” He recklessly asked. Self-preservation was not a character trait he was all that familiar with. 

Amy looked up at him with bewildered rage that he would bring that up now of all times. 

“Let’s table this for another time, no?” He said as he helped her out of the carriage. 

“Oh now you want to have tact!” She fiercely whispered, snatching her hand from him and storming ahead, leaving him to remove the baskets of food and wine. 

Laurie sighed. They should have stayed at home. Parnassus was their refuge from the world these past two and a half months. They should have stayed there forever, away from the world in their quiet house where it was just the two of them. Only the two of them. 

By the time he arrived inside, Meg was giving him a look of disappointment and Laurie suppressed a wave of irritability. He handed John the baskets and proceeded to sit in a corner quietly stewing in his annoyance until he was further needed. Everyone seemed to be aware of his mood as if he were emitting comic-like fumes of stink and gave him a wide berth. 

When Amy had announced last week that she will attend church today Meg had decided to throw a brunch. The family knew that it was to celebrate Amy’s return to society after the tragedy, but no one said anything, only glad to see Amy up and out of bed. The food cooked by Meg was simple and familiar, filled with Amy’s favourites as they passed plates around noisily and made jokes about past birthdays and told stories of long ago and Hey, remember that time Jo tried to cook for Laurie? I’ve gotten better. Tell them Fritz! Marginally, he had answered and the table dissolved into raucous laughter and for a moment Laurie felt a bit better. 

Afterwards, everyone squeezed into the small living room as Meg served pound cake and coffee with a bit of brandy in it for the men and wine that Laurie brought for the women. Daisy and Demi hurried to sneak outside as the grown-ups talked and Jo’s baby lay sleeping heavily in his mother’s arms. To imagine that he was nearly ten months old. Laurie chanced a look at Amy who was squished next to Meg in the loveseat directly across from Jo. She was picking desultorily at her cake and when Jo spoke Amy seemed to focus her attention just to the left of her sister. 

“So, who’s going to tell me what happened at church this morning? You two left so quickly and didn’t even wait for Fritz and me. By the time I got down to the door Mrs. Turnbull was still huffing and puffing about you being a – What did she call him, Fritz?” Jo asked with great delight.

“A troubling waste of good hair.” 

Meg nearly spit out her wine from laughing. Even Laurie had to admit that it was pretty funny, but Amy did not seem to agree with the sentiment. 

“They were only being polite.” Amy defended them. 

“They were delighting in our misfortune and you should not encourage such behaviour simply because you want to be polite.” Laurie countered. The earlier irritation of the day itched at him again as he remembered the exchange this morning. Everyone else seemed to find the situation highly amusing, except Amy, and her attitude annoyed him. 

John spoke up trying to get his sister-in-law to make light of the situation. “Well I think it was Nietzsche who said to see someone suffer does one good. I guess they were looking after their health.” 

“I suppose in the grand scheme of things the myopic opinions of the petty-minded don’t really matter.” Jo soothed. 

“What really matters then? What’s the purpose?” Laurie asked. 

“To serve God.” Mr. March answered with a finality that seemed to leave no room for disagreement. “There has to have some purpose to be put here on earth. Otherwise what’s the point of it all?”

“Well that certainly takes the edge off.” Laurie countered a bit sardonically. Amy gave him a look of warning, but he ignored her. 

“How do you mean?” Mr. March asked with threatening concern. 

“It means that everything else doesn’t matter. If you realize that all this, this life where you do this or that doesn’t matter, it can leave you with a sense of freeness.” 

“Well that’s a matter of perspective. Nietzsche also posited that knowing that everything is fated can be a great burden or benefit.” Fritz countered. 

“You are born and then you die and then what? Do you come here to suffer and then at the end you should be grateful to worship Him?” 

Normally, Amy loved these kinds of discussions. It was what she and Laurie did on the regular. They hosted parties and chaired debates and discussions. She knew that Laurie was playing the role of devil’s advocate, but perhaps it was the presence of her father that had her concerned that he would take Laurie’s role a bit too literally. This sort of talk could be absorbing to its participants but may come across as absurd to outsiders unaccustomed to such discussions. 

The others seemed to be quite taken up with the discussion, however. Fritz especially transformed right before their eyes from Fritz to Professor Bhaer. 

He said, “There was a Christian apologist, Lactantius, who had an interesting take on the matter of God and suffering. He said that God can remove suffering, but is unable; or He is capable, but is unwilling; or He is neither willing nor able, or He is either both willing and able. If He is willing and unable then He is feeble, which is not in accordance with the character of God. If he is able and unwilling then He is envious, which is equally unlike God. If He is neither willing nor able then He is both envious and feeble, and therefore is not God. If He is both willing and able, which alone is suitable for God, from what source then are evils? Why does He not remove them?” 

“Well that still doesn’t answer the question.” Meg noted. 

Jo, cradling her son after he began to fuss, spoke up. “Well maybe it’s that God offers us a model of how to live with suffering. The entire life of Jesus Christ testifies to that. There is room for faith, even in the hour of trial.” 

“Oh Jo don’t start with me.” Laurie said hotly. 

“What? What did I say?” 

“You sit there like Madonna and child and tell me that my wife should accept the suffering she endures with grace?” 

The entire room seemed to realize that this wasn’t simply a philosophical discussion, but a man’s personal discourse to understand the cruelties of his life. Ashamed that he let his emotions get the better of him, Laurie suddenly got up and walked out of the living room and immediately regretted his decision when he saw Amy’s reaction or lack thereof. She was wearing this thousand yard stare in the stunned revelation of the room and Laurie felt his heart sink. He needed to get himself together. He felt like he was falling apart at the seams. He stepped outside feeling weighed down and irritable. Clearly he was not benefitting from that lightness of which Nietzsche spoke. He looked on for a few seconds or a few hours of Demi and Daisy and Fritz’ two nephews chasing each other around the garden, their spirits free. Suddenly Amy came to stand next to him, resting her hand lightly on his back. 

“Did you organize the carriage?” 

This show of solidarity with him nearly floored him, leaving him feeling even more useless and contemptible that before. He didn’t deserve her.

* * *

The carriage ride was filled with a burdened silence. Laurie sat on edge waiting for his wife to berate him for his poor behaviour, but she sat looking out at the passing scenery, her eyes glazed and mouth downturned. By now he was able to recognize the signs of her falling into a depressed state and he felt like an absolute heel. She had seemed so fine this morning when she woke and announced that she still wanted to attend church. This was supposed to be her day, her triumphant return. At the moment he had admired her steely resolve to surmount her suffering, despite being worried that the challenge was too high. He had asked her a million times, “Are you sure? My love, you don’t have to do anything, you know. You don’t have to cater to anyone’s expectations. How is your stomach feeling? Are you sure you won’t get tired? You know, the children will be there. Are you sure?” 

She had turned to him and said with a pursed lip and a dangerous look of warning, “Ask me if I’m sure one more time.” And that was that on the matter. He immediately shut up.  
When the carriage came to a rolling stop outside Parnassus Amy dismounted on her own, not bothering to wait for his assistance. By the time he got inside she was halfway up the stairs. She stopped just long enough to say with her back to him, “You should apologize to Jo. Later I’ll organize a gift basket for Mrs. Turnbull _from us_. I’ll have Ethel make up the spare room for you.” 

Laurie was flabbergasted. Over three years they’d been married and she had never kicked him out. He honestly thought that she was in agreement with what he had said to Jo, if not in the delivery when she came to stand with him outside. Yes, he began to doubt her support when they were in the carriage and she refused to even look at him, but to kick him out of their own bedroom! This was a development he was wholly unprepared for. He was at a loss on how to navigate her mercurial moods which were littered with eggshells and strewn with booby-traps. 

A wave of annoyance rippled through him when he heard her slam the bedroom door shut behind her. The terminality of the action seemed to light a fire underneath him and he stormed away from the foyer and into the drawing room where he immediately began to pour himself a stiff brandy, two fingers, no ice. But as soon as he brought the tumbler to his mouth his mind catapulted him to that night. _Laurie! Laurie!_ His stomach flipped and to get rid of the nervous energy roiling inside him he threw the glass across the room where it shattered against one of her paintings. Regret immediately filled him and he sunk down heavily into the nearest chair feeling exhausted from these whiplash emotions. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, confused as to this current state. He shouldn’t be feeling this way. He was not the one who suffered. It was Amy who nearly lost her life. It was Amy who was in the bathroom, alone and terrified as she called for her husband and he couldn’t hear her because he was passed out drunk on the bed. It was Amy who had to suffer from his delayed actions. It was Amy who would have the reminder of her loss every time she undressed to see that horrific scar on her stomach. He had no right. The audacity that he should feel anything other than regret and a deep desire to repent flooded him and he calmed down, ignoring the turbulent emotions underneath. He took to the piano to release his emotions there. His notes were sombre and at once rage-filled. He knew she could hear him playing. He hoped she did.

* * *

Laurie knew that his interaction with Jo at Meg’s had been abrupt and so he apologized not once, but three times to Jo. She had already forgiven him, but still he made himself a nuisance until she laughed and pushed him away when he dropped to his knees, gripping onto her skirt to beg her mercy. He was careful to maintain his casual good humour in front of her because the last thing he wanted was for Jo to probe into his little outburst at Meg’s house. 

He was not as generous with his absolutions to Mrs. Turnbull, however. The next day as he sat alone at the breakfast table Ethel entered and thrust forward on a silver tray a card from Amy that she had filled with words of sincerest apologies addressed to Mrs Turnbull. 

“Mrs. Laurence said you have to sign the card.” 

“Well, tell Mrs. Laurence to come tell me that herself.” 

Poor Ethel. She looked like a Dickens orphan, clearly wishing that she could disappear into another room or another house, if possible.

“Mrs…Mrs Laurence said that if you signed it then you could umm, you could return to the…” The girl was only eighteen and nearly died of embarrassment on the spot as she swallowed the word ‘bedroom’. Laurie took pity on the poor girl and snatched the card to sign in his most illegible penmanship, only partly ashamed that he was letting his desperation show in front of his maid. 

But joke was on him because Amy lied. She still had the bedroom locked even a week later. He saw her sparingly and when he did, their conversations were relegated to business.  
Jo’s school was majority funded by Laurie. Jo provided part of the initial capital with the earnings from her book, but Laurie had a majority stake in it as well. Jo and Fritz focused entirely on things academically related to the school, while Laurie dealt mainly with the financial aspects. Sometimes Laurie gave impromptu musical lessons if he was in the mood, maybe even a little fencing lesson too. He readily admitted that he was not a great teacher for he lacked the patience and nor did he really have the time to dedicate. Amy mainly focused her attentions on teaching art and handled together with Jo, Fritz and him the administrative aspects of the school. In addition, he and Amy fully sponsored three boys who were currently attending. The entire week their conversation lasted no more than a few seconds and almost always ended with her giving him a bill or receipt related to the school for record keeping sake. The weekly Friday council meetings to discuss the administration of the school that week was awkward and heavy. As soon as the official discussions were through, instead of lingering for tea as usual, Amy immediately excused herself, leaving Laurie now to feel embarrassed in front of Jo and Fritz. He gave them a tight smile, taking his leave after fumbling through an unbelievable excuse. 

Then on Saturday evening, Jo called out to him from her window. He could hear her voice clearly through his room of isolation. He had no idea where Amy was, but was content to give her time knowing that tomorrow was Sunday and she would emerge to go to church with him. 

“Teddy! Teddy! Come help me pick apples!” 

He hurried over to meet Jo at the back of her house to face the orchard she had inherited from Aunt March. On the stands at the back of the house were already three full hamper baskets. The air was sweet with the smell of them. 

“What are you going to do with all of these apples?! It’s a pity apples aren’t legal tender.”

“And there’s still more to pick. Don’t just stand there.” She handed him a small basket. “You take left, I’ll head right.” 

The evening was fast approaching so he knew he had to act quickly. Some of the apples were overripe staying on the tree too long. This particular variety should have been picked two weeks ago at the beginning of the month, but they were almost finished with October. He walked deep into the orchard, as most of the fruit had already been harvested from the trees upfront. With the evening fast approaching and the density of the trees, the air grew cool and crisp and the lighting subdued. He felt like he was in a fairy tale. Suddenly, among the trees he saw something in the distance. An image of blue. He smiled. Jo, you sly cat you, he thought. 

“Fancy meeting you here.” 

Amy turned around completely surprised to see him. A few apples fell from her basket. 

They both bent to catch them, but only ended up spilling more and accidentally hitting their foreheads together. 

“Ow!” They rubbed at their foreheads and ended up laughing. Cautiously he approached her, rubbing gently the slight red mark on her forehead. A slight blush appeared on her cheeks, like the faint hint of red on the golden apples. She suddenly seemed flustered in front of him and stooped to rest her basket on the ground and collect the escaped apples. Laurie smiled, amazed that he could still have that effect on his wife. She immediately turned from him to continue picking. He leaned against the tree and admired her. 

“My Eve,”

Amy scoffed. “Somehow I doubt that you’re Adam.” 

“Oh? Who else would I be?” 

“I think Eden is missing their serpent.” 

“Oh my Raphaella, you wound me. But I must ask, am I tempting you?” 

She looked toward him, smirked and shook her head, trying to fight the curiosity his desire was igniting. “Oh you won’t drag me to hell with you. Stop flirting.” 

“I wasn’t” He protested his innocence and smiled dangerously to leave no doubt that he absolutely was. 

“You need church, you wicked thing.” She said and he laughed and for a moment she was completely caught by the image of his perfectly even teeth. She had once told him that he was devastatingly handsome with a jawline that could shave diamonds and a smile that could launch a thousand ships. He had blushed furiously at the compliment. He hoped that she was thinking of that when he smiled dangerously at her. She took a deep breath and hurried to change the topic. “The weight of this is unbelievable.” She said and he took the basket from her, their hands meeting. “What? What are you looking at?” She asked as they both stood there, staring at each other, no one letting go of the basket, heat pooling in their eyes, their desires colliding. 

“I’m looking at you.” 

She blushed fiercely at his blatant flirting at her. She immediately relinquished her hold on the basket and turned away from him as she stifled a smile. Laurie smirked and grabbed her hand and pulled her toward him. 

“Laurie!” She laughed. He dropped the basket and pulled her by the waist flush against him. 

“Why would I need church, my Raphaella when you are my temple and I worship at your altar?” 

In a moment he was kissing her, his hands gripping the sides of her face. She attempted to resist him, but couldn’t and soon she was softening into his touch. Her desire melted and caught aflame as she pressed into him. Their earlier quarrel forgotten. It had been months and their kisses turned feverish. How could a kiss light up their veins with lightning? 

He was still in love, that’s why. Despite everything they’d gone through he supposed he was now in love with her tragedy, her lonesomeness, her strength, her resolve and resilience. These newly discovered traits ignited within him a burning desire for her. His hands gripped her waist as his tongue licked at hers. She wanted him as much or maybe more as her hands roamed, caresses that turned from soft and innocent to intense and febrile. She was unbuttoning his trousers and he pulled away from her in muted alarm and if he was being honest, hope. She gave him a daring eyebrow and he smirked recklessly at her, assured that they were on the same page. She shoved her hand inside his trousers as she kissed him, eyes closed and deeply in love with him as he was with her. Her grip was firm and gentle, the rhythm like the beat of his favourite song. His kisses trailed down to her neck. His pulse became jagged and his eyes unfocused as he sunk into the pleasure, his breath now irregular in her ear. The pleasure was pooling in his stomach and he gripped her tighter, clutching at her arm and waist. She was attuned to him. 

“Amy, I’m – ” 

She immediately pulled away her hand. He felt like she had pulled the floor from underneath him. She stepped back leaving him breathless and bereft. She smirked at him.

“Meet me at home.” 

She picked up her basket and walked off, leaving Laurie standing there looking like he just got hit upside the head. He laughed giddily. This must have been how Eve felt, he thought. He took a few moments to get his breathing under control. After a while he adjusted himself in his trousers and followed after his treacherous temptation. 

He met Jo at the back of the house. 

“What happened to your basket? Where are the apples? Amy told me that she left you picking.” 

“They weren’t any good.” He answered her dismissively. “Sorry I can’t stay. I have to go…do something.” 

Jo narrowed her eyes at him. He hurriedly excused himself, struggling to walk straight. His balls ached! He chanced a look back at Jo to see her quietly smiling to herself and he ended up laughing too. 

By the time he opened the bedroom door Amy was in her dressing room removing her underpinnings. Eagerly Laurie ran to his own dressing room to haphazardly toe off his shoes and socks as he nearly ripped open his vest in his effort to get it off. It had been months and while the last few months he was not feeling particularly overwhelmed with desire, his mind preoccupied on other things like ensuring that Amy made a full recovery, he could barely think of anything else now that she had ignited him. From the moment he left Jo at the back of the house to now, was a blurred memory. Instead all he thought of was bending Amy over the nearest stable surface and pounding into her until they both collapsed from over-stimulation. After he got rid of that shaky sexual tension he would see about making love to her slowly and with the attention that she deserved. But now? He needed her to assume the position. 

When he emerged it was to see Amy dressed in her white silk robe as she stood at the windows drawing the heavy, velvet drapes, plunging the room into darkness as no lamps were lit and neither the fire drawn. 

“What are you doing? I want to see you." He asked as he came to stand naked behind her, pressing his erection into her as he rubbed his hands up and down her hips. 

“I…I don’t want you to see the scar.” 

He turned her around, but she hid her face in his chest. 

“Don’t be daft. I’m the one that’s been taking care of you. I’ve been to the doctor with you. I’ve seen it countless times. I don’t care about that.” 

“Don’t call me daft. I just don’t feel comfortable about it right now.” 

“Sorry.” He kissed the top of her forehead and trailed kisses down her eyelids and cheeks and jawline and neck. He pulled at the delicate flesh there just below her ear and smirked like a deviant knowing that she’d have the hardest time trying to cover up his love bites in time for church tomorrow. Amy clearly wasn’t thinking that far ahead as she pushed him until the back of his knees hit the bed and he fell. He scooted back higher into the middle of the bed to make room for her. She climbed atop him, settling astride, rubbing his erection between her slick wetness. She was going to drive him mad if she continued her ministrations. 

She bent to kiss him, taking his hands and putting them to her breasts. With his hands busy, he attempted to enter her unassisted, but she was so wet he kept slipping out as she continued to rub against him. She was torturing him. She rose up and if he could see her face clearly he would be sure that she was smirking at him, finding perverse glee in his failure. 

He attempted to untie her robe, but she pushed his hand away. 

“I can’t see anything!” 

“I don’t want you to see or feel it!” 

“Fine!” 

In one movement he rolled her off him and she laughed loudly in pure delight when she landed on her back. He got up and in one fluid movement he flipped her around like she weighed nothing and dragged her by her ankles to the edge of the bed to roughly shove the robe up, exposing her. She liked nothing better as she was already arching her back for him. He entered into her, temporarily feeling his brain shut down at the overloading sensation of the tightness and wetness. She pushed back against him, wanting him as deep as possible. 

“My lord, please.” 

And suddenly his erection was flagging. His eyes flew open. What was happening? He rammed against her harder and she pushed back against him with more intensity as he was no longer hitting that spot for her. Eventually he slipped out entirely from her. They both stilled unsure of what was happening. 

“My lord?” She asked curiously. 

Desperate, he flipped her onto her back and began to kiss her harshly, nipping at her lips and roughly rubbing his hands up the sides of her body, squeezing at her breasts. She was clearly taken aback by the suddenness of it all and for a few seconds didn’t even respond. Eventually her brain caught up to the happenings and she began to writhe against him, pushing her body up into him. She reached down to grip his erection and froze. He grabbed her hand in his own, encouraging her to continue, but clearly nothing was happening. She pulled back from his kisses to look closely at him. Even in this closeness she could barely make out his expression for which he was grateful. Laurie flopped back onto the bed. The silence was tantamount to a brass band suddenly entering their room with the level of awkwardness. She reached out to touch his arm and he immediately got up, went to the bathroom and shut the door behind him. 

Laurie leaned forward heavily against the sink, his face a picture of confusion as he stared at his limp dick. This was the most embarrassing thing to happen to him. He tried to rationalize. It had been so long. He was probably just worked up, was all. The excitement was too much. Yeah that was it. He took a deep breath, his cheeks puffing out before he blew out the air in a huff, hoping that he expelled his embarrassment in that breath as well. With false bravado he opened the bathroom and prepared to face his wife. 

Amy had lit the fire, so now unfortunately she could clearly see his face. She was sitting up in bed, under the covers and regarding him with concern. She hadn’t even asked anything before he was belting out the excuses. 

“I think I was too excited. I mean, it’s been a long time. I was just too riled up, you know.” He said casually as he walked across the room towards his dressing room. Her eyes slipped down to his groin and back up to his face in an instant and he felt his face heating up. He should have taken one of the many towels to cover up. He continued to babble all the while as he began to get dressed for dinner. She said nothing during all this time and her silence was like a stab. When he returned fully dressed he said, “I’m sorry darling, next time okay? Maybe after dinner or something.” 

“Alright. Sure.” She gave him a tight smile and climbed out of bed. “I’ll meet you downstairs for dinner. I’m going to get dressed. 

But after dinner Jo and Fritz and baby Ted and Fritz's nephews came over. Jo had baked an apple pie and she was so very proud she just had to share it with them. They sent for Meg and John and the children. They stayed late, playing cards, telling stories, eating apple pie and sipping on mulled wine. By the time the night ended Laurie and Amy fell into bed exhausted. The day’s earlier embarrassment seemed forgotten. 

But it wasn’t really forgotten. Now back in his bedroom, Amy woke him up in a most spectacular way. He felt her hot tongue before anything and when he opened his eyes the first image he got was his wife bobbing her head up and down between his legs. He was as hard as a brick and he thought with relief, Thank God! Realizing that he was now awake, Amy stopped and sat atop him. No dillydallying this time, she immediately allowed him to enter her. He felt that wonderful, impossible to describe or imitate feeling of entering a woman as she lowered herself onto him, slowly. He felt like he was going to be overwhelmed by the wet tightness of her wrapping around him. She bounced on him like a ball and was able to make probably three or four beats before he was flagging again. She slowly climbed off of him as he covered his face with his hands. She pulled the covers over both of them. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“No.” He turned away from her. She put her hand on his shoulder, but her touch was like a sting and he immediately got up, putting on his robe and leaving the bedroom altogether. He ended up downstairs, distracting himself by pouring his emotions into his music as he belted out notes on the piano. Eventually Amy came to join him. He was not in the mood for words and she seemed to understand that. She simply stood behind him and hugged him, resting her head on his shoulders for a while. He was grateful for her support.

* * *

They spoke nothing of it all week. Though that did not mean it was not on their minds. For Laurie, his mind was consumed by desire for his wife and he knew it was on Amy’s mind too. Longing throbbed like a sickness between them. He found it somewhat hilarious of how unsatisfied desire could throw everyday nothings into sharp relief. Laurie was now acutely aware of the smallness of her waist, of the delicateness of her wrists, of the fullness of her lips, of her hair when she let it down for bed, of her steps on the hardwood floor, of her perfume that lingered when she left the room. He could barely look at her. 

They had tried one more time. They took their time about it. It was a rainy night. The lamps were lit, but low, sinking their bedroom into a sleepy, romantic cavern. He slowly undressed her and in turn she him. Siting in the middle of the bed with his legs criss-crossed, Amy sat atop him with her legs wrapped around his lower back and they simply kissed. This was a different kind of lovemaking that they had done before, but not often because as pleasurable as it was it left them too open and raw afterwards, dazed for days. It was lovemaking that they reserved for special occasions, but Amy clearly believed that serious intervention was needed and decided that they should try this on a rainy Friday night in early November. 

The focus was not the immediate physical gratification, but instead they focused on that deep connection they held, being harmonious with each other’s bodies and minds. They simply breathed for long stretches as they stared into each other’s eyes. Their breaths mingled and Laurie felt like he falling into a meditative trance as he stared into her eyes and she too, for Amy’s eyes were glazed and heavy with want. They began to massage each other, rubbing their hands across each other’s bodies, slowly and with feeling. A simple act like that, but with the unsaid intimate communication they were indulging in felt like each touch was doused in fire. They focused on each sensation, their senses on the brink of being overwhelmed. When he kissed her he felt like he had been kissing for eons and simultaneously the first time.

When he entered her, his senses felt to already be in a heightened state. This kind of lovemaking was actually a shortened version of what they practiced he thought. When they sat like this together, curled up into each other as they rocked back and forth, they would bring each other to the edge, pull back, bring each other to the edge, pull back and repeated that for hours until when they did climax it as powerful enough that he felt like his soul was being ripped from his body. Amy did that to him all the time, but she usually spread it out over a couple of days, and only revved him up twice or three times. But in this controlled lovemaking, there was no room for days and hours to settle yourself. It was a shared ride as they both pushed each other up and then dialled back in a pace that was at once unhurried, yet relentless. 

Laurie closed his eyes and he could hear Amy’s breath loudly, like she was breathing inside of him. To feel so close to someone was liberating and awe-inspiring. And still, after only a few strokes he was losing his erection. Frustration overwhelmed him and he seemed to transfer that energy and emotion to Amy. Her eyes flew open. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.” She tried to soothe him, taking his face in her hands and showering him with kisses. “Look at me, please.” 

He looked at her, his eyes filled with a storm of emotions. “My lord, it’s okay. It’s alright. I love you. I love you dearly. We’ll get through this.” 

He sighed heavily and rested his head on her shoulder. They ended up lying naked next to each other, curled up into each other, their minds buzzing until it tired them out with anxious thoughts and they fell into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Amy’s final doctor appointment for a routine check-up fell on a windy Tuesday afternoon in November. Laurie accompanied her as usual, watching with a protective weariness as the doctor asked her a million questions. Dr Rosenbaum was middle-aged, his hair already accumulating more salt than pepper. He wore a look of constant boredom. Laurie couldn’t figure out if it was an affectation to get patients to feel more comfortable, to lull them into a sense of security where they felt compelled to share because they understood that nothing they said would shock him and he wouldn’t judge them for it, because he had seen and heard it all. Laurie supposed it was that defining feature of Dr Rosenbaum that convinced Amy to say what she said next when he asked whether they had any concerns, 

“Well, my husband has been having trouble keeping it up.” She said with her usual frankness.

Laurie’s attention snapped so quickly to Amy that his neck cracked. Defiantly, she refused to look at him and continued to stare straight ahead. Laurie wanted to strangle her. Never in his life had he felt so angry with Amy. But then the doctor said something that knocked the wind straight out of Laurie’s murderous sails. 

“That happens to a lot of men after something like this.” 

Laurie refocused his attention on the doctor with an intensity that strained him. He was so focused that if someone were to touch his shoulder now he would jump into the air like a startled cat. 

“This happens to a lot of couples. Men feel a certain pressure to get things back to normal, put a baby in the wife and prove that things are fine, or they’re scared that they might hurt the wife again. Lots of pressure. I see it all the time. Whatever the reason, these things happen and it usually goes away. You two shouldn’t worry about that pressure though since you most likely won’t be able to have children ever again…” 

It was like white noise buzzing in his ears. So very casually the doctor had said it, like it was nothing more than noting that it was sunny outside or that they should pay their fees directly to him. He said it like it was nothing and shattered their world with a few careless words. Laurie looked over to Amy and her lips had settled into a thin line, one hand balled tightly to frantically twirl the bracelet of wire and pink ribbon that Beth gifted her. He felt like his stomach had dropped out. In a stupor they stumbled out into the bright sunshine of the day feeling like a black hole was imperturbably sucking away at their souls. 

As soon as they arrived in the sanctuary of their bedroom and closed the door behind them, Amy could hold it in no longer. She gripped onto his waist and wailed. For his part, he felt a cleaving dichotomy of emotions - numbed with disappointment and startling glee. For now, there was a lightness to him revealing a weight that he hadn’t even realized he was carrying. The fear that Amy would get pregnant and die trying this time simply left him, like it evaporated. He absently rubbed at her back, but inside, underneath the bitter feeling of defeat and shame was relief. She was safe, safe in his arms and he hugged her tightly. They would get through this.

* * *

Amy had managed to cry herself to sleep and woke to find Laurie lighting the fire, the drapes already drawn, the lamps lit. 

“Thanks for removing my shoes.” She said to him as she sat up properly in bed. 

He stood up from stoking the fire and came to sit on the bed near her, absently stroking the thin skin of her ankles. “Are you hungry?” She shook her head. “I thought so. I had Ethel make some tea. You should at least drink some. You can’t not eat anything.” He stood and went to the table near the window, pouring a cup and bringing it to her. 

“You’re always taking care of me.”

“What are husbands for?” He smiled wanly as he sat back down. 

“What are wives for? I’m sorry that I cannot give you what you want.” 

Laurie didn’t know how to respond, unsure of how to express his conflicting emotions. Instead he squeezed her ankles gently and murmured, “We’ll get through this. We’ve been through storms before.” 

“I don’t know if we can weather this one. Laurie I feel awful all the time. People don’t feel sorry for us. You know what they see when they see us? Youth and wealth and good health and beauty and talent. They wonder, what should I have to complain about? So what if I lose a child once, two, three times? So what if I can never have children? I should simply focus on all of my other gifts no? I’m so ungrateful, I hear them whisper behind my back. One person even said that I deserved it for stringing along Fred Vaughn. Could you believe that? I don’t really take on what they say. I have other things on my mind.

“You know what I think about all the time? I think that by now I would have been holding our girl in my arms. I could have named her Elizabeth. I should have been giving my husband the family he’s wanted for all of his life. Everything either irritates or saddens me. Especially the little things like tightening my corset, the doctor’s office, the bathroom, Jo and Meg and how easy it was for them, feeling guilty that I’m not able to be truly happy for them, when people say the wrong thing, when people say the right thing because really there is no right thing, laughing, feeling guilty for laughing, wondering if it’s too soon to go to bed with you, babies, babies crying or babies laughing, I hate it. I yearn for it. I can’t even hold little Teddy. I hate that Jo gave him your name.” 

“Well to be fair you don’t even like the name Theodore. And joke’s on her because if it’s anyone who has to suffer it’s that poor child having to go through life with that name.” 

Amy ended up laughing, blinking through her tears. 

“You’re awful.” She said shaking her head and taking a sip of her tea.

“It’s because of the awful name.” Amy nearly spit out her tea. “You have to admit it’s terrible.” 

“It truly is. Why would they look at a cute baby as I’m sure you were and name you Theodore?” 

“To keep me grounded, balance out the good looks.” 

Amy burst out laughing and Laurie smiled in satisfaction. 

“I’m sorry for making you laugh.” He said quietly as he continued to rub her feet. 

“I don’t feel guilty when you make me laugh. I know that you want to see me laugh. I know that this has been heavy on you.” 

Laurie shook his head, “No, no.” 

“You need to stop that. It’s been bothering you. You have to face up to it. You hardly sleep. You’re irritable all the time. You’re not eating properly. That situation with Mrs. Turnbull and at Meg’s…My lord, that isn’t you. And…the other thing.” 

“No, Amy, you’re not... You’re not being fair.” He turned from her, bracing his elbows on his knees, back bent as he held his head in his hands, his eyes downcast. 

Amy rest the teacup and saucer on the bedside table. Quietly, she came to kneel on the bed next to him, putting a light touch on his shoulder. 

“My lord, I know that you’re scared. I can see it. I can see it in your eyes all the time.” She rubbed at his back and whispered, “Please talk to me. Let us help each other carry the burden.”

She waited what felt like ages until quietly he croaked out,

“I’m not just scared. I’m anxious all the time. I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. I feel so angry, Amy, at the unfairness of it all. Is this the Lord’s way of balancing things out as they say, because of all our other blessings? If that’s the case then He’s too cruel. Is this to humble me in some way? I give and I give and I will keep giving if it means that it would secure you next to me. I have terrible dreams whether I’m sleeping or awake. It plagues me. I miss you. I want you close to me, but I’m terrified of this happening again. You want to know something terrible?” He looked up at her with tears welling in his eyes. “I’m glad the doctor said what he said”. She took a deep breath and sighed, nodding in disappointed understanding at his dastardly revelation. “I’m so glad. I feel so light you wouldn’t believe and I feel awful about it because I cannot deny it. You know that I’ve wanted my own family, but not all dreams must come true.”

“No, not all dreams must come true.” She nodded in agreement and he knew she understood all too well. She heaved a heavy sigh and right in front of him he could see the determination change in her eyes. Like with her decision to no longer professionally pursue art, she had made up her mind. Amy was always a woman of hard realism and now that she had her time to wallow in her grief, she would decisively accept this path in her future. He admired her steely resolve. 

"We could be that rich, childless couple that help to nurture and develop the potential in others.” She said with a small smile. 

“Please don’t model yourself after your Aunt March, Amy. I don’t know if I’m in the mood to be spoken to with smugness and disdain for the rest of my life.” 

Amy laughed again, shaking her head in dismay. “You’re truly awful. Mrs. Turnbull was right. You _are_ a tragic waste of good hair.” 

Laurie looked at her in mock shock and Amy collapsed back onto the bed laughing. He put a hand to his chest. “My Raphaella, you wound me. Not Mrs. Turnbull. That woman wouldn’t know right even if she couldn’t go left. You shall pay for that.” 

He began to tickle her feet. She squealed in delight and they ended up wrestling on the bed. Eventually he managed to pin her down. He stilled over her, watching her smile and amazed to know that they had traversed the sad to the sublime by way of refreshingly warm honesty and a bit of wry humour. He wanted her to laugh with him always.

* * *

February. Snow falling like powdered sugar outside. The fire was dying, the room chilly and dark. Laurie sleepily woke to hear Amy retching in the bathroom. He sprang up, his mind running through the last few months, trying to remember if Amy had seen her monthlies and he somehow didn’t know about it. He thought carefully. They’d been complacent, but they had a right to be. The doctor had said…

He flew up from the bed and hurried to the bathroom, flinging open the door. He found her at the sink spitting out water. She looked up startled, but immediately understood his unasked question. She nodded, all at once dejected and hopeful and scared. 

Laurie felt his heart clinch with hope, but immediately channelled that emotion into scandalized indignation instead. He could work with outrage. It was considerably easier to work with than burgeoning hope. He immediately went to get dressed storming away to his dressing room. 

“Where are you going? It’s snowing.” Amy asked as she came to look at him furiously pulling out clothes from hangers. 

“I’m going to see the doctor. He has to explain himself!” 

Amy seemed to be too exhausted to even protest. She rolled her eyes, yawned and climbed into bed, pulling up the covers. Tiredly she called out to him from his dressing room,

“My lord? Laurie?” 

“Yes?” He came to look at her, annoyed that she was interrupting his pace.

“Get back in bed and stop wasting the doctor’s time.” 

“But Amy – ”

“I don’t want to hear it. Listen to me, this is our chance. God has given us another chance.” 

He immediately deflated. 

“Amy, I don’t know if I could –”

“Don’t be scared, my lord. Don’t be afraid to hope and dream. I know that you’re afraid to hope because you remember what it’s like for everything to come crashing down, but we’re in this together. And I’d rather live in hope with you than in fear without you.”

Laurie stood in the middle of the bedroom letting all of the emotions wash over him. The hope, the fear, the anger, the anxiety – they all combined to form a blistering pit in his stomach and bubbled up, threatening to spill over through his eyes with burning tears. He looked like he was asking for a miracle. Amy looked at him and he remembered her resolve, how he admired her strength and acceptance of realism. He couldn’t let her stand on her own, he had to stand with her and support her as her husband. He took a deep breath to settle himself and climbed back into bed, snuggling under the covers next to her. 

“Happy birthday, my lord.” She said sleepily as she curled up closer to him. 

Laurie stared up at the ceiling and huffed out a wry dry laugh at God's latest attempt at personally intervening in his life just for laughs. His stomach roiled with anxiety. Should he dare to hope?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think.


	5. Chapter 5

August. Surprisingly cool. The heat in Concord always settled, the winds in the trees keeping it from rising higher. It was a bit after three in the afternoon. Laurie was just leaving his office. He’d been here too long today. It was his five year anniversary today, but he had so many things to put in order before he could head home. He had to pick up his grandfather at the train station and then together they had to pass by the jeweller. He closed his office door behind him and was just shrugging on his coat when one of his employees ran up to him. 

“Boss, just sign off on this before you leave, please. The boys at the docks are refusing to clear if this doesn’t have your signature and stamp.” 

“”What’s this?”

“You know every Monday morning it’s a new form with them. It’s to clear the cocoa shipment.” 

Laurie smiled wistfully as he read over the papers before signing them. This particular cocoa from the West Indies always reminded him of a specific person. And just like that his mind went back to the events leading up to his fourth year anniversary.

* * *

“Strict bed rest is needed. There will be no parties, no disturbances, no entertaining of guests. There should be no stressful conversations. Quiet is needed. Stay away from sweets and spicy foods. Oh, and no intercourse.” 

No problem, Laurie nodded as the stout, older midwife instructed him and Amy on a cold, wintry February morning at their bedroom. She was probably old enough to be his grandmother and her frankness of instructions on no intercourse made him duck his head with a slight blush.

The midwife had an English accent, despite being in America over forty years now. Laurie remembered when he first came to America with his grandfather he had a slipping accent of indeterminable origin, a mixture of English and Italian and American a little bit of French – an obvious result of spending his formative years hopping from boarding school to boarding school in Europe while his grandfather worked tirelessly, trying to run away from his grief of losing a son. When they arrived in America, the children teased him mercilessly for his “funny way of talking”, how he always sprinkled foreign words into his conversations. He was so pretty; they called him ‘Theodora’ and ‘Dora’ and teased him for being a foreigner. It always amazed Laurie how children had that exceptional ability to get to the meat of someone’s insecurities with a most surgical precision. He had been determined to fit in. Within the course of a week he managed to sound more American than the president and with a little bit of charm and persuasion of the most popular girl in class he managed to get the ‘Dora’ to stop and had transformed himself to ‘Laurie’ – charming and funny and fun Laurie. A little bit of determination could go a long way, Laurie mused. If he had to it would be easy to follow the midwife’s instructions. And besides, even if Amy was able to at the moment, he was such an anxious and shaky wreck lately that he was absolutely sure that intercourse was off the cards for him. 

“After what happened the last time, Mrs Laurence, you need to be careful and you, Mr Laurence, you need to ensure that your wife stays put.” Sitting up in bed, Amy was staring straight ahead to the closed bathroom door, her eyes vacant as she nodded absently. Laurie was sitting on the armchair near the window, the midwife occupying the complementary seat opposite him, the table between them topped with steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Sensing Amy’s burgeoning distress he immediately rose to sit near her feet. He briefly rubbed at her knee and she seemed to emerge from her stupor. Like a fog lifting, she blinked rapidly, her eyes slowly focusing on the present. He looked at her with naked concern and she smiled gently at him. 

“Well, thank you for the hot chocolate, Mr Laurence. This is the best I’ve ever had. It’s so rich!” She smiled girlishly and Laurie couldn’t help but smile too at her delight. 

“It’s from the Caribbean. I’ll have some sent over for you.” 

“Oh, so exotic! Thank you so much, Mr Laurence.” She beamed as she rose and Laurie walked her to the door. “The good news is that by the time baby comes it’ll be a warm August or September. There will be no snowstorms to hold up anyone.” She was referring to the snowstorm last week on the day of his birthday. For days the roads were impassable and afterwards slippery and wet. The doctor had been busy and unavailable to them, making his rounds to those who the adverse weather threatened most seriously. Laurie thought it was a good thing because he was still feeling like he wanted to wring the doctor’s neck. “Do take care, Mrs Laurence.” Amy smiled wanly. 

He walked the midwife down the stairs and to the door where Ethel was waiting to help her into her coat and scarf. When dressed, the midwife lingered, opened her mouth as if to say something and then remembered the maid was still standing there. With a look he dismissed Ethel. Alone now, their expressions were grave.

“What is it?” He asked quietly. 

“Mr Laurence, I didn’t want to say anything in front of your wife lest I panic her, but I must be frank with you. This is going to be a very difficult pregnancy. After what happened last time, it appears that making it to full term will be a challenge, but not impossible once she does what I tell her. The really dangerous part will be labour. Given her history Mrs Laurence will be better off in a hospital, but I fear a ride to Boston will only jeopardize things further. Nevertheless a doctor must be on call when that time comes. I will be making myself available to her regularly, however. You should prepare for the worst.”

Her words were like a wound in his mind. He wore a look of dreadful realization plainly and she hurried to pacify him. 

“Don’t worry Mr Laurence. Have faith. The Lord is giving you another chance to bring an angel into this world. I don’t imagine it’s easy for them beings to cross over. Your wife is young and strong. She survived the last one. Have faith.” With unexpected tenderness after her firm words, she reached out and touched him gently on the arm. He felt a bit numbed and his reaction was delayed, like in molasses. 

“Good day to you Mr Laurence.” 

When she was already out the door he remembered to bid her farewell. 

He slowly closed the door behind him and leaned back heavily against it only to see Amy standing at the top of the stairs staring down at him, her expression unreadable. As soon as they made eye contact she turned from him. With heavy steps Laurie went to confront her. He found her slowly getting into bed by the time he entered the room.

“What are you doing up, my love? Am I going to have to strap you down to the bed?” he asked as he sat next to her.

“It won’t be as fun as last time you did that, I’m sure.” 

Laurie gave her an unimpressed look despite it being an effort to keep his lips down. 

“That’s what got us in this predicament in the first place.” 

She smiled and shook her head in disagreement. “Now you know my theory on that.” 

They’d been debating on exactly when she had conceived. Laurie was convinced it was three weeks after the doctor had told them that terrible news and by force their lives had tilted to accommodate this revelation that they’d never have children. He agreed with her that as disappointed as they were, and they were sorely so as they constantly reviewed how things could have been and what they should have done - at the end of the day they needed to accept this new path in their lives. So many decisions and thoughts and words they could grieve tirelessly for, but they could never get those back. They had ping ponged back and forth from graceful and mature acceptance to woe-is-me self-pity and crippling hope that spiralled them into depression. It had been exhausting and they were dealing with it by themselves, together trying to support each other, having not summoned the courage to admit to another as they had barely accepted the news themselves. As they both tried to be brave and strong for each other, their relationship became fraught with so much mutual support and understanding that it spilled over into frustration. 

“Amy you have already told me three times about Grandfather’s letter.” 

“And yet you have not responded. He is expecting a reply.” 

“Please do no remind me again. I will respond.” 

“Yet I feel assured that I will have to before the week is through.” 

Laurie had sighed and rubbed at his eyes, reminding himself that both he and Amy were reeling from a terrible revelation and he used this as a reminder to prevent himself from telling her something harsh in response and to behave better towards her. He had wondered if this was a case of familiarity breeding contempt as they had kept to themselves during the last three weeks as much as they could in a sustained suffocating atmosphere, quietly coming to terms with their news. They had no parties, they invited no guests and they went nowhere except to work and back. 

It seemed, unspoken, that they were in a self-imposed bubble of isolation, cocooning themselves within Parnassus to emerge at some unspecified time more mature, more accepting, more forgiving of the arbitrary unfairness of the world. But this unidentified and inarticulate period of self-appointed exile only had them bouncing off each emotionally, like atoms blowing up against each other. They needed an outlet for this energy. 

He would remember the date well, for it was Jo’s birthday. He supposed it was a good thing as the re-introduction of social activities into their lives was a quick and reliable way to jolt them into behaving better towards each other. Reluctantly, they made their way over to Jo’s house having begun to get used to their little bubble of despair. 

The dinner had been lovely and it made Amy and Laurie pause. Standing out against the plates of roasted chicken and salad were the love of the couples around them. Meg and John were in sync as she took assiduous care of him, anticipating his needs with concentrated consideration and he in turn leaned heavily into his role as husband, provider, father and gentleman; fulfilling the expectations she had of him. Jo and Friedrich were the most lax. There was a good-natured comfort between them. They were like a couple married for over forty years, orbiting each other like a sun and a moon (and it was very clear that Jo was the sun), but independently allowing each other to do their own thing.

Amy and Laurie had sat stunned at the images of conjugal life around them in this pure form, for it had thrown into sharp relief their own love. What about their relationship, they wondered looking to each other, a knowing look passing between them. He reached out to touch her hand under the table and she looked up at him, squeezing his hand, their conversation silent amidst the talk overtaking the table. What they had were passion and affection brought on by the knowledge that no one will ever understand them quite so completely as they understood each other. 

When they returned home it was clear then that this frustration that had been building up between them had to be released one way or the other. No longer burdened by the immense weight of the possible consequences of their behaviour Laurie was free to perform. No longer restricted by the fears of her body betraying her, she felt free to give her all to him. So when he secured her arms above her head and spread her legs to tie them to the foot of the bedframe, they both felt like this was what they needed. 

He paid careful attention to her. He showered her with kisses and since she couldn’t do anything about it when he began to kiss her stomach, he took advantage of his position. 

“My lord…” Her tone one of warning as his kisses lowered from her navel. He smirked wickedly at her. 

“What are you going to do about it?” And he licked a flat stripe straight across the darkened strip of puckered skin scarring her stomach. 

“Laurie!” She railed against him, testing the strength of his restraints. 

“My Raphaella, don’t you know that I love all of you? From your hair follicles to your toenails to your freckles to your scars.”

“But it tickles…” She weakly protested until she broke down in laughter. He looked up at her and smiled with gentle satisfaction. 

“I despise you.” She said with a huge grin. 

“I guarantee you that I could change your mind.” 

“Oh? You have a persuasive argument?” 

“Only the most compelling. You may call me silver tongue.” 

Before she could give him a witty retort he relentlessly licked between her legs, pushing his tongue deep inside of her until she came trembling. Breathless, she managed to eke out, “I am almost certain that that’s not what silver tongued means.” 

Laurie laughed, but he was disappointed that she was still capable of coherent speech. Determined to rectify that he gave her no reprieve when he immediately stuck his fingers inside her, crooking his fingers just so to see her body rise and fall and squirm, hear her moans heighten and then become more guttural, see her skin flush and her eyes roll to the back of her head.

He had her right where he wanted her. Was he still concerned that he would disappoint her? Yes, because somewhere in the back of his mind was all of the embarrassment of the past, his failures looming large and heavy like a shadow as he feared that he will disappoint, but hoped that he wouldn’t. 

Gasping and slowly coming down, her limbs heavy and loose, all she could do was attempt to call out to him in a heavy breath. “My…” and he instantly understood. He immediately untied her restraints and laid next to her to look into her eyes. Her pupils were blown. 

“I…I,” She swallowed quickly. She sounded like she was having an asthma attack. “I want you near me.” 

A calm settled over his nerves suddenly when he looked at her, really looked at her. This was his wife. His. They had a boundless passion and understanding between them and in that moment he felt an acute connection to her to know that no matter what arbitrary hurt they went through, they had each other and they could still come together like this to lay bare their everything between themselves. She gripped his face and kissed him with a feverish passion. 

He made love to her slowly, his rhythm deep and affecting as she clutched onto him with desperation, her nails digging into his back, her legs wrapped tightly around him, her moans needy and desperate. Tears ran down the sides of her face and he understood why as he kissed away the saltiness.

“I still have you,” She whispered like a prayer, her eyes shut. 

“Always.” He responded. 

Now, now as he adjusted the covers over Amy in the room that she would be most familiar with during the next few months of her pregnancy, he wondered if she was thinking of the same thing. It was an intense moment between them. It was memorable. Something passed between them that night, more than just the surface swapping of fluids. It was a mutual devotion, a recognition that yes, they were living in the shadow of grief, but they were facing it together and the monumental realization that every storm to come would be faced together by leaning so completely into each other they were practically one and the same and if they were to lose each other it would be comparable to losing a part of themselves. The idea was at once exalting and terrifying; the true meaning of awesome. 

“My lord you are such a hopeless romantic. It’s sweet.” Amy giggled at his look of exasperation. “You are correct. That night was practically spiritual and I understand why you would want conception to have been then, but you should accept that it wasn’t then. It happened in the pantry at Orchard House at Thanksgiving and you know it.” 

Laurie groaned and rolled his eyes. He would much prefer to know that his child was conceived in a sweeping romantic gesture and not a quick, throw-away fuck in his mother-in-law’s pantry. While everyone had been sitting heavy with post-turkey fatigue in the living room, listening to Demi and Daisy massacre a tune on the piano and lay waste to everyone’s ears, Amy had come to the pantry to search for more cinnamon while Laurie was sent by Jo to the kitchen to round up a few more glasses, allowing Hannah to rest up. The kitchen was empty. He spotted her in the pantry. Their eyes connected. “Are you alright, my lord?” That velvet and honey voice of hers was his weakness every time and next thing he knew he had her braced against the pantry wall. She hiked up her voluminous skirt and he put a hand over her mouth to stifle her moans as the shelves of spices shook around them with every thrust. 

“Do you remember that the black pepper fell open on us and we sneezed all afternoon? We told Jo it was allergies.” Amy reminded him. 

“ _In November?!_ ” They both said at the same time, recalling Jo’s high-pitched question of suspicion, her look of utter confusion. Amy and Laurie melted into peals of laughter. 

“Then you told Marmee it was probably the dust and Hannah got so offended that we had to tell them we were getting the cold!” Laurie nearly slid off the bed laughing at the memory. 

He turned to look at her, mirth still dancing in his eyes as he sobered up noticing her slowly fading smile, their laughter dying out like the last few claps of applause. She began to twist the band of wire and pink ribbon of Beth’s around her left wrist, staring down at it with a serious expression. 

“I heard what the midwife told you.” 

“Everything?” 

She nodded. “She thinks our angel is crossing over.” She smiled weakly. 

“Maybe.” He shrugged. “What do you think?” 

“I don’t know. I’m praying that it’s true.” 

“I don’t know what to pray for anymore. At first, God seemed to leave us well enough alone, couldn’t be bothered with us. Two years and nothing. I didn’t tell you anything, but I thought that something was wrong with me. Every other married man I knew, their wives were with child within six months. I didn’t want to admit that there might have been a problem. I just ignored it. You didn’t say anything, so why should I? But it was Jo, Jo who called out my deepest fear. I know that you’ve been having trouble, she said. It was like she pulled aside a curtain or opened a room that shouldn’t have been opened. I felt so exposed. Do you remember? It was the night of the charity ball in Boston. You looked exquisite. You looked amazing! Do you know how beautiful you are? Every head turned when you entered that ballroom and you were with me. I should have been focused on all of my blessings then, but instead all I could think of that night was my failure. When we got home and we were in bed I prayed and prayed and prayed." 

“And He listened to you.” 

Laurie scoffed. “Probably to spite me, teach me a lesson on patience or hubris. I don’t know. I was so happy when you told me. But then… At first I thought I was probably too ungrateful. Maybe I didn’t give enough thanks to Him finally answering my prayers. I doubled our tithes in church. Jo said that she was almost finished setting up the school, but she would have to dip into the rest of the money she made from her book. I didn’t want her to touch it; that money should be for her and her children. I offered to help her finance the school. Ethel’s little brothers needed help with their schooling. It was nothing for me to help with that. While I did those things freely, I also thought that maybe it would square me with God, but I did those things with a clean heart, I swear. And He gave us another chance… only to take it away again. I changed the tune of my praying. I began to pray for this to never happen again. I couldn’t stand to see how you cried. But deep down I still had hope. Maybe it was that that He couldn’t stand. Maybe He didn’t like how I couldn’t make up my mind. I was praying for one thing but wishing for another. Maybe He wanted to teach me a lesson on sincerity, on being fickle with my prayers.

“What happened last year nearly destroyed us. Oh I am a believer. I am a God-fearing man now.” He said bitterly. “He runs the show. He’s been playing with my life like a marionette. I don’t know what He wants. I don’t think I understand. What is this? Was He waiting for me to give up all hope? I don’t know if this is some kind of punishment or reward. I don’t know what to think. I don’t know what to pray, so I’ve stopped.” 

“And just when you’ve stopped He gives you a miracle.” 

Laurie huffed out a dry, humourless laugh. “He’s so cruel.” 

“Maybe. Maybe He’s making up for those past hurt now and sending us our angel.” 

Laurie sighed and closed his eyes. She took his hand in hers and he turned his head to look at her. “My lord, I’m scared too. I’m really scared, but I have wanted to give you this for so long. You have been longing for a family of your own since you were a child. I want to give you this so badly, maybe too badly. I just want to tell you that if it comes down to it, you tell the doctor to save the child, forget about me.” There was no despair in her words, only straight forward hard-boiled realism to strike at the very center of his fear.  
Laurie snatched his hand away from her. 

“I don’t want to hear it.” 

“My lord – ”

“I don’t want to hear it!” 

He regretted raising his voice at her, but far from looking angered by his tone, she wore an expression of pity and understanding. 

“Don’t ask me to choose, Amy.” His expression was grave, his tone on the cusp of warning. 

“I’m not. I’m telling you what to choose, if you have to.” She said quietly. 

“Get some rest.” He said dismissively and hurried out the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind him. He leaned against it and closed his eyes. He was losing it. He was become undone, unstitched at the seams. He needed for her to stop this nonsense talk of stoically accepting death because it was the one thing he refused to accept. God would never be so cruel to give him one dream while he took away another. He’d never forgive Him if that happened. Never.

* * *

They never spoke of it again, but the fear remained, right underneath the surface, like a black and blue wound. It was easy to lose sight of the big mountain they’d have to cross down the road when their journey was fraught with enough distractions along the way. The midwife was right; it would be a very difficult pregnancy because Amy seemed to get every single miserable side effect of pregnancy there ever was. 

First it was the nausea that was worse than anything she had ever experienced during her three pregnancies before. The midwife told her that she needed to eat to solve the problem because she would be going from fine to starving in a matter of seconds. 

“Always have something salty to snack on as that helps with the nausea.” 

Amy nodded and nibbled on soda crackers and salted apricots. She ate one of the bright orange dried fruits and it seemed to be helping. She ate two. She ate three. She ate an entire mason jar full of them until she threw up orange. 

“I never want to see an apricot again in my life.” Amy wailed as she threw her head back down on the pillow and flung her hand over her eyes as Ethel removed the pot of bright orange sickness from the room. 

“But my darling, why did you have to eat the entire bottle?” 

In response Amy threw a pillow at his head. Laurie almost laughed. Almost. He was reckless, but not suicidal.

And then like magic she woke up one morning with no nausea. Instead, it was replaced by pain in her teeth. 

“It feels like they’re throbbing.” She mumbled, barely moving her lips for fear of further irritating the tingling feel. 

Marmee, Meg and Jo had been stumped having never had that particular symptom. The midwife only smiled and told her to rub some clove oil on her gums. She complied readily and then it was back to the vomiting that ached her sensitive teeth. It was a vicious cycle of torment. 

Thankfully, that only lasted a week. But then came the pain in her left leg. 

“It feels like a continuous Charlie horse.” 

This time Meg and Marmee had experience with that. Their advice: just walk it off on tiptoes. And so Amy limped around the confines of the bedroom on her tiptoes to stretch the muscles. When the midwife heard of it, Amy was immediately ordered back to bed and Laurie faced the brunt of a five minute lecture from the midwife; somehow the stout woman making his near six foot frame feel small by the time she finished reprimanding him. The solution: Laurie massaged Amy’s calf every day, twice a day: before he went to work and when he returned. 

“Usually when I have your leg over my shoulder like this and you’re crying out like that, there’s a lot more fun involved.” Laurie mused aloud and Amy couldn’t help but giggle despite the pain searing through her muscles. 

“What did the midwife say, Mr Laurence?” 

“No intercourse!” Laurie replied in a high-pitched mocking British accent that made Amy giggle with delight and Laurie felt calmed.

The massages seemed to work and after a while the cramping eased. It was only to be replaced with headaches, debilitating headaches that had Amy unable to function in a basic conversation. The curtains had to be drawn all day as she required absolute darkness and quiet. The midwife was convinced it was Amy’s diet for Amy craved sugar like a fiendish ant. And though the midwife had expressly forbade Amy from having sweets, Amy still had Ethel sneak her the leftover dessert when Laurie left for work. When the midwife learned of this it was Laurie again who faced the brunt of her reprimands. 

“She cried like a child after dinner last night for a piece of cake. And when I told her to have a piece of fruit instead she threw a fit.” Laurie complained to Jo the next day as they were sitting in her kitchen having a cup of tea. 

“Honestly Teddy, you can’t get cross with Amy for that. You just don’t understand what it’s like. I’ll tell you Amy is lucky it’s only sugar. I pulled out pieces of my hair and ate it.” 

“What?” He asked incredulously. 

“I swear! Look! I still have a bald patch!” She bent over and parted her barely restrained hair to reveal a tiny bald patch in the middle of her head. She rose up and Laurie pushed her head back down. 

“Hold still Jo, I’m trying to see my reflection in that bald dome of yours.” 

“Teddy!” She flew up and slapped at him, but missed and he laughed uproariously as he immediately got up and spun away from her. 

“Oh don’t be cross Humpty Dumpty.” 

She took up the nearest thing to launch it after him which was the bowl of sugar which surprisingly didn’t shatter against the door frame, but instead bounced harmlessly onto his shoulder and rolled onto the floor. 

“Jo!” 

“Better wash up before Amy smells that on you and you get attacked.” 

“Ha ha,” He said distractedly dusting off the sugar from his shoulders. He looked up and with a wicked smile he said, “But at least she’s eating something edible, you maniac.” 

“You scoundrel! I’m never telling you anything ever again!” And she chased him out the kitchen laughing.

* * *

One day Laurie woke to realize that Amy was almost due. They had made it all the way to July despite all of her trials. Amy who now had crippling back pain that brought tears to her eyes and acid that climbed from her stomach to eviscerate her chest and had her terrified that she’d choke on her own vomit, forcing her to sit upright to sleep. 

Laurie wondered if all of these infernal symptoms were distractions because if he were being honest, he and Amy were so focused on surviving the latest hellish wave of symptoms that they were no longer hyper-concentrated on whether they were going to make it to full term in August. But Laurie barely got chance to ruminate on that miracle of having made it so far because Amy had become almost unbearable. She was irritable to the point where it had escalated into her being downright mean. There were no safe words for him to use and it appeared that his mere existence annoyed her. 

“How’s Amy?” Jo asked with a knowing smile when he came over early one morning. She hadn’t even finished her breakfast and immediately invited him to have some of his own. 

Fritz was reading the papers while his two nephews quietly planned what misadventure they’d get themselves into today. Little Ted was sitting on the kitchen floor most intrigued by a ball.

“Amy is probably plotting my imminent demise at this moment.” Laurie responded as he sat down taking up a bite of dry toast. 

Jo and Fritz laughed. “I remember that stage. Everyday living in fear.” Fritz said with a light shudder. Jo stuck her tongue out at him rather childishly. 

“Be strong comrade. Eventually we will make it through to the bitter end.” Laurie countered with words most heard on the frontlines of a battle and Fritz laughed. Jo kicked at Laurie under the table. 

“Ow! Is there is no end to your terror?” 

Fritz chuckled and Jo rolled her eyes at her two favourites taking sides against her. 

“Anyway, Teddy you have to understand that when you reach to that stage, a woman gets a bit fed up and Amy has had it rougher than most. Plus she’s been forced to stay in bed for all those months only going as far as her bathroom and dressing room, so it’s only natural that she’ll be a bit irritable.”

“You should do something nice for her.” Fritz suggested. 

“You mean like disappear?” and Fritz chuckled. Laurie wasn’t joking. After his interactions with Amy this morning he was positive that if he had keeled over dead it would suit Amy just fine given her current mood.

“Oh I know! We should do a play!” Jo exclaimed. 

“I don’t know, Jo. The midwife said no excitement. And Amy has been so moody…” 

“Nonsense. Amy just has to sit there and watch us. And she’ll love it. We should call over Meg and get the twins involved too!”

The idea cottoned on quickly and soon Meg came over with Daisy and Demi and everyone got swept up in Jo’s excitement. At half-four that afternoon, after having been out all day, Laurie entered the bedroom. Amy was sitting up propped up amidst her fort of pillows and had finally managed to fall asleep, her head falling to one side in a way that he knew would cause her neck grief later on. She looked peaceful in that way that chronically grumpy people do when they’re sleeping. Laurie smiled at his wife’s beatific sleeping expression. He gently pushed a curl away from her face. 

“My Raphaella, wake up darling.” 

Amy’s eyes fluttered opened, confusion initially settling in and she looked towards the clock on the mantle. She immediately frowned. 

“Five minutes. I got five minutes of sleep.” 

“Jo!” Laurie immediately called out to save himself from a tongue lashing. Amy looked up shocked to see her sisters and the children traipsing in toting their props into her bedroom. She immediately sat up straighter. 

Jo, wearing a top hat and coattails over her white shirt and billowing dark brown skirt positioned herself at the foot of Amy’s bed while the others busied themselves with setting up. 

“Ladies and gentlemen I invite thee to bear witness to the greatest spectacle that North America ever had the fortune to indulge in and that which will surpass anything seen on the stage this side of the western hemisphere.” 

Amy clapped her hand over her mouth and her eyes were alight with delight. Laurie released a breath he didn’t even realize he had been holding as he dragged the armchair to sit next to Amy’s side of the bed. 

“I present to you ‘The Greek Slave’ – A most thrilling drama!” 

Demi and Daisy adjusted the kerosene lamps just then and the ‘theatre’ grew dimmed and hushed. 

Afterwards, Amy clapped loudly and with unbridled glee as the lamplights were increased to signal the end of the production. “Brava! Brava!” She turned to her husband, smiling brightly. “You did this for me?” 

“It was your sister’s idea.” 

“Oh Jo how did you know? I’ve been longing for a walk outside or to go to the theatre or anything. It’s been dreadful.”

Jo came to sit on the foot of the bed. Meg dragged a chair closer and the children piled onto the bed. Amy was the complete centre of attention just the way she liked it. 

“Yes, well we all know how you get when you’re told you cannot go somewhere.” 

Amy frowned. “Jo I was twelve! I apologize again for burning your manuscript.” 

“Jo, don’t get her worked up.” Meg warned. 

“I’m only teasing, Amy. I’ve gotten over that. And besides, I’m writing another book.” 

Meg and Amy’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Yes, my editor insists that I follow up on Little Women. He says people want to know what the sisters have gotten into now.” Laurie frowned, but said nothing. “He says people want to know if the sisters have got their castles in the air.” 

“Oh I remember that day so clearly.” Amy said with a wistful smile. “My castle was to travel to Rome and be the best painter in the world. Laurie wanted to be the greatest musician after he’d travelled the world and then he’d settle in Germany. Meg, you wanted to have a mansion with fine things and marry the love of your life like in a fairy tale. And Jo wanted to be a famous authoress.” She deliberately didn’t mention that Beth was already living in her castle in the air. 

Laurie snorted out a laugh. “Aim for the castle in the air and we just might hit the muddy moat surrounding it.” 

“Don’t be like that, Laurie. You’re not a famous musician but you have travelled the world.” Meg said.

“I haven’t travelled the world. I’ve travelled across some of Europe.” 

“That’s way further than I have gone.” Meg protested. 

“And me,” Jo spoke up. 

“Small setback, Jo. You’re the only one that’s achieved your castle.” Meg responded.

“Well you don’t have an actual castle, Meg, but you have riches beyond measure.” Amy noted and Meg smiled in understanding.

“True. I have my lovely sisters and – Would you all stop roughhousing! You need to be mindful of Aunt Amy’s condition. If you can’t behave I will send you outside.” 

Meg’s sentimental speech was immediately derailed by Demi and Daisy and Franz and Emil’s rough play. They sat quietly, looking like the most proper penitent angels after Meg’s reproof. 

Meg sighed in exasperation and turned to Amy. 

“That’ll be you soon when you have your brood.” 

And just like that Amy’s mood dipped. Laurie could see it plainly in her eyes, like the dip of the light when the fire of the kerosene lamp is adjusted. Meg’s words suddenly brought into acute relief the looming terror of this impending child birth and the very real possibility that Amy and child may not survive. Laurie hurried to distract her. 

“We should play a game of cards until dinner. You must stay for dinner. I’ll have Jon and Fritz sent for.” At once he got up in search of cards. 

Jo seemed to immediately understand his intent and she eagerly agreed to his plans. Amy smiled graciously, but the warmth didn’t quite reach her eyes. 

Laurie removed the mountain of pillows that encased Amy so that there would be more room on the bed as they laid out the cards. They at first tried to play Hearts but the children were not that into it, either blatantly misunderstanding the rules or simply not comprehending the purpose of the game. Amy suggested they play Snap instead and challenged the children to beat her since she was a Snap champion in her youth. Jo and Amy’s competitive nature immediately overtook the game and it became at once apparent that Laurie and Meg were not serious or passionate enough for this level of competition. He and Meg took up their seats on the armchairs as objective judges instead. Only the children were able to keep up and the room echoed with gleeful shouts of ‘Snap!” and “That’s cheating!” and “Too slow!” as they all tried to make matches in the quickest time.

Laurie was delighted at the scene before him especially of his wife smiling. Quietly he wondered if Meg’s words could possibly be prophetic. What if they could have a house full of children? He immediately perished the thought. To think like that, to hope for more was to invite disaster. Laurie barely finished the thought when he saw what happened next as if in slow motion. In his glee of winning the last round Emil jumped up to celebrate. Jo grabbed at his shirt to get him to calm down and the boy lost his balance, falling heavily onto Amy, his head crashing onto her stomach. It happened so quickly that she had no time to brace or block the lash. 

Laurie bolted from his chair when Amy cried out, throat-constricting panic immediately shocking him into action. The rest of those in the room were frozen as they all looked at her, their eyes like saucers. 

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Amy said with a tight smile as she clutched her stomach. 

“I’m sorry.” Little Emil said softly. He looked miserable and everybody’s heart melted a little at his contrition despite the real threat that still lurked. 

“It’s alright, my darling.” Amy responded sweetly. She took up his hand and brought it to her stomach. "See?” 

“What was that?” He asked in wonder. 

“Baby is kicking. Probably likes you.” She said gently. 

“Can I feel the kick too, Aunty Amy?” Daisy asked and the others soon began to crowd her. 

“No, no.” Meg immediately put a stop to the fast rising levels of excitement returning to the room. “Aunty Amy needs to rest. She’s had enough excitement for the day. Get off the bed. Gently!” 

“Teddy, we won’t stay for dinner.” Jo said as she rose. She wore a look of anguish. She neared her sister and took her hand in hers as Meg rounded up the kids. “Amy are you sure you’re alright?” 

“Don’t worry, Jo. I’m okay. Thank you so much for coming over and putting on the play. You have no idea how much I needed that. Thank you. It was truly wonderful!” 

Jo nodded and smiled weakly. 

“I’ll walk them out.” Laurie told her and she smiled brightly at him, but as he was closing the door behind him he caught a glimpse of her as her smile dropped and she threw her head back heavily against the pillow, taking in a deep breath as she rubbed her massive belly. 

As soon as the door closed Jo turned to him. 

“Teddy I’m so sorry! I shouldn’t have pulled on his shirt. I should have only told him to sit. Oh God, Teddy, I’m so sorry.” 

“It was an accident. Don’t worry about it.” 

“How could I be so inconsiderate? I should have never have let them on the bed. They’re always roughhousing.” 

“Stop fretting. You’re doing a fine job of raising those boys. Which is why I wanted to talk to you about something. I know it’s not the best of times.” From his position atop the stairs he could see Meg and the children at the door waiting for the carriage to take Meg and her children home. “Look, if umm…if anything ever happens to Amy or me, we would want for you to take care of our…children, child.” He stumbled on the word and its heavy implications. 

Jo looked at him, her expression shocked. He supposed the timing of this wasn’t ideal what with all of the misplaced guilt swarming in her mind. Eventually she gathered herself.

“Of course, of course. But umm, Teddy, what would happen?”

He smiled knowingly, tightly. “Jo, you know that this will be difficult for Amy. If something happens…” 

“Let’s talk about this more tomorrow.” She immediately cut off the conversation. He could practically see the gears of her mind turning. 

“Yes, yes. I have the paperwork and everything for you to see if you want.” Jo’s eyebrows nearly touched her hairline. “We’ve put it into our wills.” 

Jo looked like she wanted to faint from the implications. Luckily, she was saved from having to respond when Meg’s carriage arrived and she hurried to take the boys home. 

When the front door closed Laurie hurried back inside the bedroom.

“How are you feeling?” 

Alone now Amy let him see that she was genuinely worried, but trying to be positive. “I feel alright for now. Just the usual cramps. The hit seemed to make him more active though.” 

Laurie’s eyebrows raised and he came to sit on the armchair beside her. 

“You think it’s a boy?” 

Amy shrugged. “The midwife seems to think so and Marmee too. They say it’s because my skin is so clear and that I’m carrying low. I guess we’ll see next month.” 

“Next month begins tomorrow.” 

“I feel ready to burst. I wish he would come tomorrow.” 

“All in due time. I’ll have Ethel bring your dinner.” 

“Yes I’m starving.” She whined dramatically. 

“You’re always starving lately.” 

“If you judge me, you’re really judging your son.” Amy told him with a serious expression and Laurie burst out laughing and eventually she too.

* * *

August 1st. The heat of the day rising slowly and swirled to settle over the town like invisible smoke, like all of Concord were in a terrarium. The trees were still, Concord was silent. Amy began to haemorrhage at round eight last night. Laurie immediately sent for the midwife.

“How’s the bleeding?” The midwife asked as soon as she entered the bedroom, not bothering with pleasantries. 

“Light.” Amy answered. Her tone was easy and she looked up at Laurie, but they mirrored each other with fear and anxiety, the only difference was that hers held a bit of acceptance while his had some defiance of what was to come. The midwife wouldn’t have noticed all of those emotions passing wordless between husband and wife. She would only notice that Amy’s hands were trembling. The midwife looked at her with concern and Amy ended up sitting on them as if she were a mischievous child. Laurie for his part didn’t blame her nervousness. He was not one to bite his nails but he felt like if there was ever a time to take up that bad habit it would be now. He stood up near the door, biting his lip and trying to be a pillar of stoic strength, a role for which he was currently unqualified. 

“Any pain?” 

“The back pain is intense and the cramping has increased.” 

“What do the cramps feel like?” 

“Like a pulling across my stomach and back. I’m feeling it all in my legs.” Amy turned to look at him briefly and then said in a small, shy voice. “It almost feels like I have to go to the washroom.” 

“Hmm. That don’t sound like ordinary cramps to me. I’ll have to examine you. Mr Laurence, please step outside.” 

Laurie nodded, but as soon as his back was turned he rolled his eyes. He closed the bedroom door behind him wondering if the midwife knew exactly how Amy ended up pregnant. She always asked him to step outside when she examined Amy as if he hadn’t already seen every inch of his wife’s body. But he supposed they were discussing things of a womanly nature that Amy may feel too embarrassed to share in front of him. 

He leaned back against the balcony, bracing his hands against the railing and thought about how Amy really should not be feeling any sort of embarrassment in front of him given everything that they’d been through this past year. When she arrived from the doctor’s office last year after the surgery she could barely make it up the stairs, but she pushed through the pain. She didn’t want a room to be made up for her on the ground floor; she wanted to recuperate in the familiarity of her bedroom, she had said. When she had finally arrived in the bedroom, between the bumpy carriage ride and the climb up the stairs that was transformed to her personal Mt Everest, she was exhausted. She was so tired from the effort that she had collapsed onto the bed and slept for ten straight hours. 

Jo and Meg had readily offered to take care of Amy during that time, but she refused their assistance, graciously citing that they had their own families to take care of, but Laurie knew that she couldn’t bear to look these young and happy mothers in their eyes; these young, happy mothers who had never experienced that kind of loss. And so it was between Laurie and Marmee who took turns helping Amy to recuperate. They helped her to the bathroom and helped her change her clothes and ensured that her incision was kept clean. But it had been Laurie who took the brunt of the assault when Marmee left for the day and Amy was too tired to be a model patient in front of her mother, it was Laurie who saw her breakdown and cry; who hugged her tightly as she wept into his chest at night. It was her husband who found her one evening in the tub sitting there naked with the water running, spilling over onto the porcelain tiles as Amy’s mind fractured and left her for a moment. He’d had to lift her, dry her off, get her dressed and back into bed and all the while her eyes were completely vacant. To this day he was sure she had no memory of the episode. He was the one who had to endure her harsh tongue lashings when her melancholy morphed into impotent rage at the unfairness of it all and then swung back around again to apathy. 

Amy had absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about in front of him, Laurie thought. He had seen all sides of her and he was still here, wasn’t he? 

The bedroom door opened and the midwife stepped out into the hallway. 

“Your wife told me what happened earlier.” She said sternly and Laurie looked sheepish as he braced for her verbal assault, but none came. She only looked weary which did nothing to soothe Laurie’s guilt. “What’s done is done. Mrs Laurence is going into labour.” 

Laurie felt like he was going to be sick. The time had come. The time that he was simultaneously dreading and hoping for was here and he found that he was still unprepared. He gripped the banister like a lifeline. 

“It’s the early stages yet and the bleeding is light. We just have to monitor her.” 

He nodded dumbly to her what she said, but not actually understanding the words coming out of her mouth. He knew the meaning, but was unable to parse what she said into a coherent sentence. His brain was in a fog of fear. 

“I don’t think anything will happen for a few hours still, but I will remain with her. Is there somewhere I can retire to for the meanwhile?” 

Laurie stared at her. 

“Mr Laurence? Mr Laurence!” 

That seemed to shake him out of the stupor he had temporarily fallen into and he immediately answered her. “Right. Yes. Uhh…Yes there is. You may use this room.” And he gestured for her to follow him. How shameful, he thought. He was supposed to be the man here, he was supposed to have strength for Amy. She would need his support and here he was falling apart at the mere mention of his wife possibly being in trouble. Get it together Theodore Laurence!

* * *

No one had told Laurie that childbirth involved long stretches of dullness and waiting around punctuated intermittently with flashes of terror. Morning came, warm and bright and nothing much had happened. Meg and Marmee came over early and were currently in the room with Amy and the midwife. With no uncertainty he was kicked out of the bedroom, Meg telling him with a gracious smile that the birthing room was no place for men and shut the door in his face. He had no idea where Jo was, but was reluctant to go next door in case he was needed for anything here. Instead, he spent the time he had on his hands attempting to read, playing billiards and drinking cup after cup of coffee until he was vibrating like a plucked guitar string. It had been almost a year since he last drank any alcohol and he wasn’t going to start now since he was already feeling wide awake drunk in a strange fugue of fear mingled with prickling anxiety. The only way he could expel this nervous energy was to take to the piano. His notes had a wistful feeling to it despite the medium tempo. 

Sometime near noon Jo finally showed up looking harassed as if a bear had been chasing her. 

“What happened to you?” Laurie turned to look at her from his seat at the piano when she fell exhausted onto the nearest armchair. 

“You won’t believe the morning I’ve had. When Emil heard that Amy had gone into labour he got it into his head that it was all his fault and the poor boy felt so scared that we’d punish him – don’t know where he got the idea that Fritz and I are so horrible, by the way – and he saw it fit to run away.” 

“What?!” 

“We spent the entire morning running around the estate.” 

“Where’d you find him?” 

“He was in the attic hiding in one of Aunt March’s old trunks! We were worried sick.” She huffed and tried to calm herself. “How’s Amy?” 

“I don’t know. They kicked me out of the room.” Just then a loud bawl emanated from upstairs. “And then more often than not I hear that and I jump out of my skin. It’s been like that since last night.” 

“Oh poor Amy. Mine didn’t last half as long as that. And I just hope that next year it’ll be just as short.” Jo said slyly. 

With his addled attention, it took Laurie a few seconds to realize her meaning. 

“Jo?” She nodded shyly. “Congratulations are in order then.” She looked awkward at the attention. “Keep this up and you’ll have to look into millinery as a career to maintain hiding those bald spots." 

“You’re despicable, do you know that?” She said with a small smile and Laurie laughed dryly. 

“I’m glad I can make you laugh even at my expense. You look wretched.” She said quietly. He gave her a tight smile and looked down at his hands. He was constantly jiggling his feet, twisting his fingers and a corner of his bottom lip was raw and reddened like he had been biting at it. Heavy dark circles had formed under his eyes. He seemed incapable of maintaining his usual casual good humour for long with everything going on and for a brief moment he allowed her to see that he was slowly coming apart. It was short-lived for he took a deep breath, shaking up the dregs of his anxiety. 

Jo sighed and rose from her seat and Laurie too. “I guess I better get up there. Knowing Amy she’s probably concerned about if she’s still looking presentable.” 

Laurie nodded distractedly and Jo stopped to look at him. “Did I offend you? If so, I apologize.”

“Not in the least as I didn’t hear what you said in the first place, so it is I who must apologize.” Jo’s expression softened. “Actually I wanted to ask you something. Are you still writing that follow-up book?” 

“Yes. I’m making good progress, actually.” 

“Will this one come with a signed pulpit on purchase?” 

Jo rolled her eyes and sighed. “I know you think it was preachy, but I am writing to impressionable young girls. They should have a book to guide them on good morals as they enter the world as independent, but sharp-minded young women.” 

“Spare me the lecture as I’m not an impressionable young girl. I’m only asking that you be a bit more judicious in your writings as your ‘impressionable young girls’ wreaked havoc on my marriage last time you published.” 

Jo blushed in shameful discomfort at the memory. “I’ll make sure to add that our book counterparts are happily married to their respective spouses.” 

“I’d much prefer if you didn’t mention my book counterpart and his wife at all.” 

“Teddy, these books are inspired by my family and Amy and you are my family. You two have one of the strongest and most admired marriages that I know of. I know that what I wrote last time somehow managed to get confused young girls to insist that not only the characters of Lou and Laddie belong, but somehow people got the idea that we belong together,” She rolled her eyes at the ludicrousness of the idea, “but I wouldn’t mind using this book as an opportunity to again set the record straight via your book counterparts that you and Amy belong together. You and Amy are very well suited to each other. You fit into each other’s worlds like puzzle pieces. And you have umm…” She looked at the floor uncomfortably, “You have a lot of passion and that sort of tension between you.” The words rushed out in a jumble and Laurie took a few seconds to catch her meaning. He cleared his throat to dislodge his feelings of embarrassment. Was it really that obvious that he and Amy could barely keep their hands off each other?

“Be that as it may, I don’t want you to publicize our lives like that, especially the trouble that we’ve been having.” Jo stared at him looking guiltily. “You already started to write about it, didn’t you? Jo, you weren’t there last year to see her bleeding out on the bathroom floor. You weren’t there to see the doctor have to cut her open. I didn’t tell you but last year wasn’t our first loss. We are trying to get past that and while I understand that writing helps you come to a place of understanding, like you wrote of Beth, but this…this for us would only immortalize our pain.” 

She looked regretful at his admission. 

“Teddy, you and Amy form an inextricable link in my life and if I’m writing about family it’ll be hard to keep you out of it. I am closer to Amy than Meg or Marmee now. Amy has grown into someone that I tremendously admire for her grace and generosity and strength in the face of adversity. You are my best friend with whom I can always truly express myself. You have helped me achieve not just my dreams, but my husband’s dreams of opening this school. I named my son after you and honestly if I have a daughter I am thinking of naming her Amy. But I understand your concerns and I will respect your wishes and limit my mentions of you and Amy as much as I can. You and Amy come first. I’ll take it out. They can read between the lines.” 

“Much obliged.” He looked overwhelmed by her admission. 

Just then another scream rang out and Laurie startled. Suddenly hurried, heavy footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs. Laurie and Jo immediately ran out of the drawing room to the hall. It was Meg. She looked terrified. There was blood on her left hand. “You need to get the doctor!”

Laurie felt a sudden coldness as if someone had dashed a bucket of water over him. He and Jo stood immobilized for a moment in fear until Meg shouted, “Now!” and they leapt into action running into each other like the leads in a slapstick roadshow – him to the door and Jo to upstairs. 

He immediately set about to the stables to see that some forward thinking servant took the initiative to already have the horses saddled to the carriage and ready to go with the two fastest horses – Pirate and Velvet. They were two beautiful black steeds, one white socks and the other with a white patch across his right eye. Amy had named them. Racing towards the doctor Laurie wondered if this was what romance and marriage did to a person. It was subversive how the love for someone could affect you so that your entire life would be left broken in their absence. Was there not a memory that was untouched by his wife? 

If you were to ask him Laurie wouldn’t be able to tell you much about the journey to get the doctor. Later, the doctor had informed him that he was rude and threatening in both his words and behaviour but Laurie wasn’t in a position to agree or deny the claims since he honestly had no memory of it. All he remembered was racing up the stairs of his house practically dragging the doctor behind him, flinging open the door and shoving the poor man inside. And he remembers clearly what he saw when he opened the door as if his mind displayed photographs. 

Marmee and Jo were kneeling on the bedside trying to get Amy’s attention whose head lolled back lifeless, but her pupils were skittering. She was struggling to say something. She was so pale and blood was soaking the bed. The midwife was at the foot of the bed with her hand shoved up between Amy’s legs. Meg was just heading to the bathroom with a basin full of reddened water and blood soaked washcloths. 

“How long has she been in labour?” the doctor asked and the midwife stood to wipe her hand on her apron, leaving a red streak against the off-white fabric. 

“Since about eight o’clock last night.” 

“What?! That is too long. That child is in distress and the mother will die. We have to get it out.” 

Laurie couldn’t believe this was happening again. His brain felt like there was a buzzing sound in it yet he became hyper-focused. All of sudden he could feel the depth of the weft of the carpet under his feet and the threads running across the sheet soaking up the blood. 

“Laurie,” 

Her voice was so weak, but he heard her and he hurled himself forward onto the bed to hold her hand. 

“Everybody get out. You’re crowding her.” The doctor said and it was met with immediate protests. “Only the midwife can stay.” 

The sisters and Marmee looked betrayed by this announcement. The doctor stood looking at them in defiance, refusing to do anything until they left. 

Eventually, Marmee came and kissed Amy on her sweaty forehead and then Jo and Meg and Laurie had to close his eyes and breathe deeply to control himself from taking them by the hand and shoving them outside. When they finally left the doctor turned to him. “Mr Laurence, please get off the bed.” 

He immediately complied and turned to go but Amy held his hand with a strength that he had no idea she was capable of in this moment. 

“Laurie,” 

“I’m right here, I’m right here.” 

“My lord...” 

“Get off the bed, Mr Laurence.” The doctor repeated and reluctantly Laurie pulled his hand away from his wife. 

He looked back to see the doctor bending close to Amy. “Mrs Laurence I’m giving you some laudanum to help with the pain.”

Tears were pooling in her eyes as he left her, but she looked so dazed that he was unsure whether she knew he was there in the first place.

Was that the last image he would have of his wife? 

Laurie closed the door behind him to see Marmee and her daughters standing in the hallway wearing fearful expressions like they were in front of a hangman’s noose. He didn’t know what to feel. How was it possible to be filled with all those emotions at once? The result was a strange numbness overtaking him. The hallway was steeped in sadness and a sense of anxious resignation. 

He sat down heavily at the top of the stairs, hollowed out by fear and exhaustion. He held his head in his hands as he struggled to not give into despair.

* * *

_August 21, 1874_

_Dear Grandfather,_

_I hope that all is well with you and that you are in good health. I write to you on the day of my fourth wedding anniversary. I am amazed that four years have passed so quickly. Amy and I are quietly celebrating._

_We are celebrating more than our anniversary, however, because I am writing to inform you that you are now a great-grandfather. Elizabeth ‘Bess’ Laurence was born on August 1st and she is everything we ever dreamed of and wanted._

_Amy is currently recuperating. It was a difficult delivery and it will be her last. The labour took its toll on her body and the doctor did what he had to in order to save both mother and child. She is currently confined to bed and will be for the next couple of months as she heals, but she is in fine spirits because we have our Bess with us._

_You’ll be glad to know that your great-granddaughter has taken after her namesake and is truly an angelic child despite all the trouble it took for her to get here. She is fair-haired and blue-eyed like her mother, but she has my mouth and nose and for that especially, Amy is eternally grateful. I know that it is unbecoming to boast, but I profess that I have the most beautiful daughter in the world._

_I will admit that despite her fine temperament, she is a bit small and weak. We are doing everything within our power to keep her safe and healthy. She is a fighter like her mother and if she has even half of my wilfulness she’ll be alright. She grows stronger every day._

_I must confess that fatherhood has changed me and allowed me to view things in a different perspective. All of those times when you quarrelled with me and pleaded for me to stop being idle has now been thrown into a new understanding. What I thought were you nagging I now know was you showing how much you cared. I fear that I have become overprotective. I think constantly of the future and how to ensure that my family will be taken care of. Maybe it’s because I know that Bess will be my only child, but a fierce protection runs through my veins for both her and Amy. The thought of losing them fills me with icy dread. It never fails to amaze me that I am capable of such love. Bess is like her mother I suppose in that they have that uncanny ability to grab you by the heartstrings and demand attention and adoration. I love them more than life itself._

_You called me idle and feckless and lazy and you were right. My relationship with Amy has changed my life around though and I am happy beyond measure. But the arrival of this angel into my life has given me that sense of purpose and belonging that I have yearned for all of my life. I can honestly say that I am truly happy and satisfied. My wife has risked her life to give me what I have longed for and I do not know how I shall ever repay her. I have an idea, but I will save it for another letter for I fear that this has gotten too long already._

_The christening will most likely be held in a few months once Amy is well enough. Take care of yourself and we hope to see you soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Laurie._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this got away from me and ended up way too long. I was unable to finish on what I originally planned and so there is one more chapter to go. As usual, let me know what you think.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurie tries to do something nice for Amy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Influences: Mark Twain's The Innocents Abroad was most helpful for 19th century travelling by ship. Also helpful was the article 'Comfort and Guidance for female passengers: the origins of women's employment on British Passenger Lines 1850-1914" by  
> Sari Mäenpää

Late afternoon. Late summer. The sun pervaded Concord with a golden brightness, but not much heat. The leaves of the trees shimmered like fish scales in the shifting wind. A dreamy languor filled the closing of the day. From the window of his carriage Laurie watched as everyone in the town seemed to be strolling, lazily lounging on park benches or chatting idly under the shade of a tree. It seemed only him was bubbling like soup with excitement under the surface. Even his grandfather who was next to him in the carriage seemed to notice. 

“You look like a child on Christmas.” 

Laurie turned to look at his grandfather and smiled self-consciously. His grandfather had aged so much since he last saw him almost two years ago. The crinkles around his eyes were like trenches. His hair was whiter. His skin looked dried and worn. He looked like a well-used leather suitcase. 

“I suppose I’m excited, yes. A bit nervous too. I don’t know why.” 

“You’re in love.” 

Laurie ducked his head in a blush, like a school boy.

“Imagine that. Five years later and still…” 

“Must be the Italian in you. They say that Italians love stronger. They’re more passionate.” 

“Well it’s a good thing I’m only half-Italian or Amy might take out a restraining order on me.” 

His grandfather laughed heartily that segued into a chesty cough, a sound like a dying printing press. Laurie looked up at him with concern. 

“Don’t look at me like I’m going to keel over. I’m fine. I just haven’t laughed in a while.” 

Far from being reassured Laurie looked at his grandfather with muted alarm, tinged with naked pity. 

“My boy, certain things you never quite recover from.” He said sombrely. It was the closest that his grandfather ever came to mentioning the grief he kept locked up inside. Laurie sat up straighter. Suddenly it appeared that he had crossed the invisible line from child to man in his grandfather’s eyes, finally allowed to enter the realm of men and adult conversations. His grandfather stared at his weathered hands as he spoke, his tone soft, penitent. “I was worried about you. Your letters during the last few years grew scarcer and the meaning between the lines were heavy. I knew that you and Amy were in trouble and I worried about you.” 

Laurie turned away from his grandfather. He knew what he was referring to, pivoting carefully around memories that were still too painful for both Laurie and Amy to talk about.  
“I understand if you don’t want to talk about it. Lord knows that I won’t fault anyone for being unable to talk about their hurt. I just want to say that I’m glad that you and Amy recovered from whatever it was that was hurting you.” 

“We lost a child.” Laurie blurted out. Inwardly he rolled his eyes at his obstreperousness. Here he was finally being considered an adult worthy of adult conversations by his grandfather and like a bouncing tattle-tale child he blurts out his deepest hurt. His grandfather looked at him curiously and Laurie felt compelled to continue. “Amy nearly died. She was bleeding out in my arms. I watched the doctor cut her open and pull out my girl and discard her. That was two years ago. And then last year our Bess’ birth nearly killed her too. She’s only just getting better, past the physical wounds I mean.” He was looking out the window but all he saw were those images forged in a doctor’s office at two in the morning; of his wife’s vacant stare as pain overwhelmed her; of a blood soaked mattress; of splintered minds and hearts. He immediately closed his eyes and reopened them, glad to be returned to the present. 

“Some things stay with you.” 

“Indeed. We have our Bess now, but we’re terrified. She’s one year old now, but we’re still terrified that something may happen.”

“Don’t be like me, my boy. When your aunt died I was devastated. I lived in fear that something would happen to your father. I kept a strong hold on him. After all, it was just him and me now. His mother had died and his sister had died. I tried to cage him, but he was like a bird or a wild animal. He broke free and met your mother. She was a true free spirit, like a mustang that girl – all beauty and seductive danger. I loathed her because I thought that she was going to be his downfall. The more I fixated on that fear and projected it onto her and hated her, is the more he fought me. When he died, I blamed her and cursed her name. And then they handed you to me and lo, you look just like your mother whom I hated. What cruel irony. I tried to cage you too, but you fought like your father and the idea that history was going to repeat itself nearly tore me apart. That’s when I decided to stop fighting so hard. Do you think I needed to be in London for so long? You were running wild in Europe and I was cowering in fear in England. And then comes along Amy March.” 

Laurie ended up smiling despite himself. 

“Tell me, how did she do it? How did she get through to you?” 

“Ask me an easier question, like how to travel back in time.” Laurie replied and his grandfather chuckled. 

“Don’t let fear and grief ruin you like it did me. Don’t let those things have power over you. Learn from my mistakes.” His grandfather spoke gently, allowing Laurie to see past the depths of loneliness and sadness to the pools of kindness and reserves of tenderness below. “You are happy and contented. Marriage and fatherhood suits you. If I had known that was all it would have taken to get you to be mature I’d have married you off at fifteen!” 

Laurie laughed heartily and a feeling of surrealism washed over him briefly to know that he was able to laugh with his grandfather now, as a man, as an adult. How far they had come. 

“Ah, but you would have married me off to the wrong girl then.” Laurie reminded him and his grandfather nodded knowingly. 

“Back then you thought it was going to be Jo March.” 

“I think I was the only person who thought that. Everyone else seemed to know that Jo didn’t love me like I wanted her to.”

Tentatively, his grandfather questioned, “Do you have regrets?” 

“Regrets? The only regret I have is that I didn’t notice Amy sooner. It might have saved me a lot of heartache.” 

“That heartache was necessary.” 

“Indeed. Amy keeps me grounded, keeps me from going crazy and getting too lost in the dreams in my head. And I lift her up. Sometimes she’s too grounded, her realism sometimes sinks down into pessimism. We balance each other out.” 

“You seem to understand each other well. You shouldn’t be anxious about later.” 

“I know that she’ll like the idea, it’s just that every time I try to make a romantic gesture to her, it never seems to work out the way I planned it in my head.” Laurie stared out the carriage window, his mind taking him back to Paris over five years ago.

* * *

In the brougham on the way to the train station with the shades drawn and Laurie whispered sweet nothings to Amy and kissed her and kissed her some more and Amy all the while looked like she had been hit upside the head with all the dazed expressions and retarded reactions that encompassed. His words slipped between Italian and French and English and she seemed to melt. _“Ti adoro, Raphaella mio (I adore you my Raphaella) ”, “Voglio passare il resto della mia vita con te (I want to spend the rest of my life with you)” and “Tu es si belle, mon amour (You are so beautiful, my love” and “Nothing compares to you, my darling,”_ and Laurie kissed her again, dragging his tongue around hers, gripping the sides of her face and mussing up her perfectly coifed hair, washing her with the magnitude of his passion and love for her. She kissed him back with equal fervour, even biting on his bottom lip and Laurie smiled brilliantly around her mouth and kissed her harder, inspired by her recklessness. She moaned into him and just then the coachman knocked on the top of the carriage. Amy jumped back from him startled. They had arrived at the train station.

Laurie wiped away at his lips and a small streak of blood came away on his fingertips. He looked at Amy and smirked. Her face was completely red, pupils dilated, her lips pouty and bruised, her ribbon had shifted, her hat crooked and strands of her hair were loosening from her up do. 

“You may need to compose yourself before you step out, darling.” He said lightly and he could see how the pet name discombobulated her. She nodded, a bit disoriented, as she searched for a mirror within her pockets. Laurie knew that he was no better off. He looked over himself and noticed the obvious tent forming in his trousers and tried to adjust himself as best he could, settling on trying to get his breathing under control. Amy snuck a look at him and she looked briefly triumphant before returning to look at her countenance in the mirror, trying to school her features into something neutral. Laurie did not miss the micro-expression on her and filed it away for future reference. 

Upon hearing of the death of Beth, Laurie had immediately left London to be with Amy. Should he have stayed with his grandfather who seemed quietly devastated by the news? Probably. But by now Laurie’s grandfather seemed resigned to bad news and loss, unlike Amy whose happiness would have been stolen from her so quickly and completely that she wouldn’t have known how to react, as if she’d just been mugged by death. Laurie too did not have much experience with loss, but all he knew was that he had to be there for her. Even if she despised his presence, he had to lend her his strength, what little he had, in this trying time. He couldn’t allow the woman he loved to be alone in a time like this. Because make no mistake, despite her rejection, he was still in love with her. 

While Laurie had boldly claimed that he returned to Paris because he couldn’t let Amy travel alone, he hadn’t actually put anything in place to make his pronouncement a reality. He had packed his bags and prayed that she would not have been able to leave immediately and that was as far as he got in terms of a plan. He had only just made it to Paris in time. It was early morning, the day promising rain, the lighting grey tinged with soft blue. She was standing there dressed in all black as she watched the coachman try to fit two years’ worth of luggage onto the brougham. Loneliness permeated out of her and his heart melted for the solitary creature before him. 

Was he going there to declare his love and get her to change her mind? It honestly was not his initial intention. He simply did not want her being alone in this time. He had heard of her rejection of Fred Vaughn, but still Laurie kept his head down in England, learning the ins and outs of managing a business, quietly improving himself, like how she wanted for him, like how he’d known he’d needed to do for the longest time. Also, he was almost certain she hated him. 

In his mind he would have made a grand declaration of love to her at some point in time, but the reality between him and Amy never seemed to work out that way in any case. When they had been in the gardens, he never had any intention of proposing just then. He’d had it in his mind that he would have proposed during a romantic, moonlit stroll during a sincere and quiet moment in the gardens. He was supposed to get down on one knee and do it properly with the moon in the background silhouetting them. He’d even checked his almanac to see the next full moon. It was to be in two weeks . . . right when Fred Vaughn was to return, she had informed him. He could not foresee the setting changing dramatically to a midday garden picnic, yet at the possibility that Vaughn would return and upset Laurie’s plans, Laurie knew that he had to derail his mission. 

With no time to formulate a speech that would decisively allow Amy to see the depth of feelings within his heart for her, Laurie had to improvise. In retrospect, he didn’t blame Amy for refusing him when his heartfelt proposal had boiled down to “Don’t marry him” and “You know why.” The arrogance was shameful! He’s surprised she hadn’t slapped him. 

Later, deep in the humiliating throes of another rejected marriage proposal from a March sister, he decided that what Amy needed was for him to demonstrate how serious he was about her. Two weeks later he had bought a ticket to London, the ship scheduled to sail that very afternoon. He was going to show her that he was intent on becoming a better man, a man deserving of her love. He would work and prove himself to her that he was not just a boy romantic, but he was capable of being a provider for her, that he was capable of being responsible and considerate. He would tell her this, begging her to wait for him. It would have been dramatic, tearful, heartfelt and romantic. There would be a certain amount of heroism in him going away to London and begging her to wait for him. She might even entreat him to stay, but he would stoically turn from her, telling her “I’m doing this for us.” Yes, that was how he foresaw it. 

Only Amy wasn’t even in that afternoon when he called on her and Aunt March seemed to indulge in perverse pleasure telling him that Amy was out with Fred Vaughn. 

Again with plans derailed, Laurie salvaged the flaming wreck of his plan and self-respect and still proceeded to London. Was it because he was running away in shameful defeat? Yes, partly, mostly. Was it because he still had hope, hope that was beaten bloodied and barely breathing but still alive, that she may change her mind? A bit, yes. She had said that she loved him all of her life. That had to count for something. She doubted him, but he needed to put that to rest. But did he leave for London to join his grandfather’s business, not for her, but for himself because he knew this was what he had to do, he knew that he had to grow up? Definitely. 

And now here he was again with his impulsive nature leading him. He had kissed her. He kissed her, interrupting her noble speech about how they could pretend his failed proposal never happened, that she did not admit her love for him, that she did not refuse another man because she was still forever and always in love with Theodore Laurence. Gone were his plans to work hard and keep his head down and emerge a couple of years later with a grand gesture to her, to show her the man he’d become. He’d kissed her while she still had tears in her eyes from the overwhelming emotion of grieving the death of her sister. He had kissed her and throughout the entire carriage ride to the train station she had looked dazed and confused. He had kissed her and completely had her mentally and emotionally befuddled not because of his prowess in kissing, but because she was slipping in and out between piercing grief and mesmerizing lust. Was he being advantageous and selfish? Could this amount to emotional manipulation all because he was too impulsive? 

This revelation hit him with full force and he had not had time to brace for impact of the ramifications of his behaviour. In the Gare de l’Est, Laurie bought a ticket to Le Havre, while Amy sat on one of the benches looking a thousand yards in front of her and he was quietly falling apart at the revelation of this dastardly side to his character. Now that she’d had five minutes apart from him Laurie wondered if she was coming to the same conclusion as he was – that he was a vile and despicable man who unintentionally emotionally preyed on her during this vulnerable time. Honestly, Laurie thought that if Amy decided to push him in front of the nearest oncoming train he deserved it. With tentative, jerky movements he came to sit next to her. 

“Were you successful in getting the 9 o’clock?” Laurie nodded absently. “What? What is it?” 

He took out his pocket watch. It was a quarter to nine and he hoped that he could adequately explain himself in fifteen minutes. 

“Amy, I believe I need to beg your pardon.” 

“Whatever for?” 

“I shouldn’t have kissed you.” 

Her expression immediately grew more obdurate, the mouth turning down, her eyes widening slightly at his cool audacity. Still, she gave him an opportunity to explain himself. 

“I don’t understand. What do you mean?” 

Laurie looked down as he tried to gather his thoughts. All he could see were feet passing in front of him. Polished leather boots, scuffed adelaides and shined up bal-types, cheap grimy pattens making quite the racket on the concrete, dirtied hems of bulky skirts sweeping the floor. The only thought that came to Laurie was that he should not have this conversation here on the platform of a crowded train station, he should have taken her to the more secluded tea shop, but he didn’t think that Amy should be trusted with a cup of scalding hot water when the temptation would arise to throw it in his face after he said what he had to say. 

He took her gloved hands in his and a scandalized mother hastened her child in front of her to avoid witness of the blatant demoralization occurring on a public train station platform. 

“Amy, it was never my intention to come here to, to take advantage of your emotions.” 

She snatched her hands away from him. She was furious and she looked around frantically, either in an attempt to note the onlookers seeing her being publicly jilted or she was counting the witnesses to his imminent murder. 

“Amy, Amy, please listen to me and just calm down.” 

“Do not tell me to calm down!” She quietly hissed. 

“My darling – ”

With one look he felt eviscerated. Sheepishly, he continued. “I think you misunderstand me.” 

“Do I? You spent the entire carriage ride kissing me and whispering sweet words in Italian and French and now you tell me that that was never your intention. What exactly am I misunderstanding?” 

“During that carriage ride I kissed you and you looked confused and stunned the entire time. I am not so conceited that I believe one kiss from me could befuddle you so. Amy, you are grieving and it was dishonourable and solipsistic of me to impose my feelings on you like that while you’re in such a vulnerable state.” 

She stilled and stared at him and like the sun bursting out from behind the clouds after a heavy rain she began to smile slowly that turned into a full blown laugh as she shook her head in amused disbelief. Laurie was completely confused by this reaction. 

“Oh is that all?” She laughed giddily. “Laurie, Laurie I don’t know what to do with you, you hopeless romantic. You had me thinking the worst of you.” She huffed a breath in relief and smiled sweetly at him. 

“You should think the worst of me.” 

“Laurie,” She swirled his name around her tongue like a fine wine. He felt seduced by that sultry drawl of hers. “You are correct in that my emotions are all over the place. In the space of a very short time I have had to process the blend of regret, passion, grief and longing – longing for home, longing to remain in Europe, longing for you, longing for Beth. I have so much regret over not going home sooner to be with Beth one last time, like Jo did. I feel so much guilt over how I treated Fred. I feel like I wasted his time and made a fool out of him, but I know it would have been worse if I married him, so I also feel relieved. And then thrown in are my feelings for you. If I looked confounded, it was because I was.”  
Laurie nodded guiltily. He was right. How contemptible of him to press forward his love in a time like this. 

“Don’t be like that. Don’t think like that.” She said softly, seeing straight through to his thoughts. “If I looked stupefied, it was because I was kissing you. Laurie I have loved you since I met you at twelve years old. Eight years I have pined for you and tried my best to stifle my feelings. I have tried so hard to forget you, to think of you only as a neighbour and a brother. I told myself that love can be learned and tamed and educated. In my mind, the image I replayed was the one of you walking away from me on New Year’s Eve when I first saw you walking down the Avenue des Champs-Élysées. That was my reminder to forget you. Every time I found myself dreaming of you I thought of you walking away from me and reminded myself that you would never be mine. But kissing you is to throw rational thought straight out the window. 

“You are a musician, so you should know that feeling of falling away from the physical world and getting lost in your art. You have no realization of time and that reasonable voice that speaks in your head disappears and there is only sensation and pleasure and music and colour and form. That’s what kissing you is like for me. Being with you makes everything else fall away. The reality is that I looked stunned kissing you because I was.” 

Now Laurie was the one looking floored. He was absolutely speechless to hear of the depths of her feelings for him, especially since they so mirrored his own. Also, what a compliment!

“And I am simply touched that you are willing and able to slip inside the eye of my mind so easily. You say that you were solipsistic in your thinking, but the mere recognition that you know I have a million different emotions swirling around my head is enough to let me know that you are truly a most amazing man and I am so very lucky to have you.” 

Again, speechless and now he was blushing. She was too, aggressively so at these honest words. They were shy in front of each other, in front of the world passing in front of them. He wanted to embrace her, but settled for taking her hand in his. Her hand was so small compared to his and an overwhelming feeling to protect her filled him. 

“You are dealing with a lot and I believe that in order for our relationship to thrive it will be more prudent to take things slowly and allow your emotions on everything to settle. No, no I’m not going anywhere. I will be with you every step of the way, my darling, but you need to grieve and come to terms with these conflicting and confusing feelings. We don’t have to get married immediately. We could wait and let our love grow and mature and settle, while you take the necessary time to heal. We could wait a year. I’ll take that time to settle into the business and look into getting a house. You can take that time to plan the wedding and heal. Planning is fun. You love planning things.”

Amy agreed to his plan. It was a sound and mature plan. They would wait and be married in a year or so while Laurie put things in place for his marriage and Amy overcame her grief. In retrospect, Laurie should have known that the plan would never work. When has a plan of his ever come together? And yet, with delusional self-confidence flying in the face of his failed romantic overtures, he continued believing that this was how it was going to be.

* * *

By the time they arrived at the train station in Le Havre and switched to another carriage to take them to the port, the rains came down heavily. Laurie did not have a ticket to the SS Brittanica and he expected to have to do battle with the person at the ticket counter, but not with Amy before he even stepped out the carriage.

“I don’t want to be apart from you. What if you don’t get a ticket?”

“I’ll get one.” 

“I only just managed to get one. What if it’s been sold out? What if there’s only room in steerage?” 

“So? Then I’ll room in steerage.” 

"Yes, but then we’ll be apart. I could just stay. We could leave a week later.” 

“Amy, no. You’ll drive yourself mad and I refuse to be the reason for your regret. I’ll get a ticket.” 

“But it’s pouring. You can’t go out in that.” 

“And how do you want me to get a ticket?”

“Ask someone else!” She was sounding hysterical. He was baffled. 

“Ask who?” 

“I don’t know. Anyone else! Laurie, it’s pouring out.”

“I’ll borrow an umbrella.” 

“From who? There’s no one around!” 

“Amy, you were just telling me to ask those same non-existing persons, no?” 

“Laurie, be serious. You can’t go out in that. What if you get sick and …” 

Ah, they had come to the root of the matter and Laurie’s face softened.

He pulled her nearer, taking her hands in his and looking her straight in her eyes. 

“Listen to me, nothing will happen to me. I’m healthy and strong and young.”

“Things happen to healthy and young people all the time. Beth was so young. Why would the best of us leave us?” 

“I don’t know, darling. All I could tell you is that I know that she is no longer suffering. And even though we now have that burden of grieving for her, just know that you’re not alone. I will never leave you. If you’re on that ship I will be with you too even if I have to stowaway in someone’s luggage. I’m not going to leave you.”

Amy nodded, looking at once besotted and depressed, on the verge of tears again at the emotions spilling over through her. She looked up trying not to let the tears fall.  
“Never be ashamed to cry in front of me.” He told her gently and she was no longer able to hold it in. She let out a pained sob and the tears fell freely. Laurie brought her to him and she rested her head on his shoulder. Tears dripped down her face as she squeezed her eyes shut. 

Laurie did not feel the depths of grief like Amy did because he was not as close to Beth as he was to Jo or Amy or Meg, but a pervading sense of bitterness lingered within him at the unjustness of it all. He never experienced this kind of loss and the effects of crippling grief. He had lost his parents when he was young, memories of them blurred in his mind. But what really had him terrified was that he was opening himself up to grief by the sheer virtue of opening himself up to love. To love is to lose because death and loss were inevitable facets of life. He understood where Amy was coming from. The idea of one day losing her would constantly be hanging over their love like the sword of Damocles. It bothered him like it was bothering her. They clung to each other a little bit tighter with this knowledge. 

Eventually, the rain subsided and so did Amy’s tears. There was a lot of hustle and bustle as everyone tried to get aboard and away from the rains. Carriages were pulling up recklessly, men were shouting orders and women were trying to wrangle their children and obscene amounts of luggage. Amy stayed inside the carriage, insisting that the coachman wait, refusing to let him dismount the luggage because she was simply not getting on that ship without Laurie. The coachman stood outside the carriage in the drizzling rain looking miserably at the porters loading the luggage. He just knew that the young lady inside would ask him at the last minute to unload. Fifteen minutes passed and there was a banging and a rumbling and hissing of steam as the boat got ready to cast off. In halting English, the coachman ventured to the young lady within. 

“Excusez moi, mademoiselle, but the ship –”

“We are not leaving without him!” Amy furiously exclaimed and the coachman cast despairing looks at the ship as the seamen began to untie ropes. 

Suddenly, there was Laurie shouting and running up to the carriage. 

“Amy! Get on the boat! We have to get on the boat!” 

The coachman rolled his eyes as this was exactly what he didn’t want. Frantically he unloaded luggage as the young couple hurried up the gangplank. Amy hung onto her hat as Laurie took hold of her arm to secure her steps going up the wobbly gangplank. With relief and much laughter they made it onto the boat. The weather was dreadful and forlorn as they leaned against the railings of the deck with their hearts pumping with adrenaline and their smiles broad. They ended up laughing as Laurie told her that he’d had to bargain and plead and cajole and threaten, but eventually old fashioned extortion seemed to work, with Laurie being the one extorted. What was supposed to cost $200 cost him $800 for a first class ticket. They were initially disappointed however, to learn that Amy, who was not travelling with a lady’s maid, had opted out of first class to save herself the embarrassment and tittering of gossipy and class conscious first class ladies and had instead purchased a ticket to second class, instead. 

“Don’t let that trouble you, my dear. In the fullness of time you’ll be my wife and I’ll get you a phalanx of lady’s maids to dote on you and we’ll live like a proper lord and lady.” 

Amy giggled and the sound was like music to Laurie’s ears. He felt enthralled. “If you so desire, you’ll have a maid to brush each strand of hair on your pretty head.” 

“I do not so desire.” Amy giggled some more. Laurie nestled up even closer to her, his face close. 

“Oh? And what do you desire? Shall my lady confess?” 

“Only to be with you, my lord.” She spoke shyly. 

They were giggling and flirting and generally having a nice reprieve when they heard a loud clearing of the throat behind them. They turned around slowly, smiles dying midway on their face when they realized it was the Matron. Amy nearly fell overboard in her haste to create distance between herself and Laurie. 

“Miss March, is it?” 

“Please to meet you.” Amy weakly mumbled like a child about to be sent to the principal’s office. 

“I do say you should settle your room with the rest of the unmarried young ladies. Rest up. Grief can be so very tiring.” 

It was not a recommendation and feeling properly rebuked, Amy stiffly nodded her goodbyes to Laurie and hurried off, her face burning at having been caught in a potentially embarrassing situation. The Matron gave Laurie a stern look, but far from being intimidated, he was only amused at her antics. 

“What’s your name, sir?” 

“Theodore Laurence. Pleased to meet you, Ms…” 

“Mrs. Miller. I am the Matron of the ship. I am here to supervise the conduct and comfort of the single women on board. I play the role of domestic inspector to encourage decency and suppress any indecorum amongst the single female passengers. Can I rely on you Mr. Laurence to uphold the manners of propriety on this ship?”

“Of course. I am a fount of propriety and upholding the reputations is my life’s work.” 

She looked at him shrewdly, at this handsome young man who looked somewhat Italian and dressed like a stylish Englishman, but had that independent American self-possession. “Is that so? It looked very much like you were cavorting with that young lady.” 

“Cavorting? Strong word for a man with his intended.” 

“I see.” She was tall with dark hair and had apparently specialized in using a raised chin and a mild look of contempt to devastating effect over her considerable years. 

“Temptations abound and lots of men are bound to sow their wild oats, even when spoken for.” 

“I do believe in the possibility of young men being loyal to protecting the virtues. It’s not unheard of.” 

“Of course not. It will be my duty to ensure that you can look your intended in the eyes and be assured of both your good faith and true, unsullied love.” 

Though her name might be Mrs. Miller Laurie thought that she might as well be Mrs. Grundy given her sententious attitude and task of tyrannically upholding conventional propriety on this ship. And while Laurie had no such intentions of dishonouring Amy and would rather die before he saw her name besmirched due to his actions, at the intrusion of being told what to do, he suddenly felt an acute need to be disagreeable for being disagreeable sake. The feeling passed soon enough and Laurie smiled and agreed that he would only be the most appropriate with felicitous manners and actions. He smiled his roguish and charming smile and Mrs. Miller seemed to fall a little in love with him for the briefest of moments, hated herself for falling for Laurie’s charms and to make up for such a slip, she proceeded to watch Amy and Laurie like a prison warden. There seemed to be nowhere the young couple could go to without Mrs. Miller’s eyes set upon them. It seemed she was everywhere at once and Laurie wondered if it were possible to throw a rock in any direction at any given time and not risk hitting Mrs. Miller right between her eyes. 

Amy giggled at her distance of from three feet apart from him at the breakfast table. 

“Oh stop it. I suppose this will help us to take things slowly, as you suggested.” She whispered as best she could. 

“Slowly, I said, not dead stop.” 

Amy giggled again, noticed Mrs. Miller’s disapproving glare and studiously refocused her attentions to the texture and colour of her toasted bread. 

In an effort to distract themselves from the ever present gaze of Mrs. Miller, Laurie and Amy tried their best to employ themselves to other pursuits. Amy became rather popular among both women, men and children alike for her skill in sketches. They adored her copies of their likenesses, but loved her even more ironically for her caricatures of said persons, taking great pleasure of her exaggerated drawings of their massive foreheads and bulbous noses and googly fish eyes. They found it quite the lark though Amy confessed to Laurie that it all started in what one gentleman thought was a caricature, but Amy had actually mistakenly gotten the proportions of his forehead wrong. Laurie had laughed, but nearly collapsed in a paroxysm of unbridled glee when she showed him her original sketch and he commented that she had not gotten the proportions wrong at all; rather her sketch was almost photographic. With heads bent together on a bench on the upper deck they scrutinized her drawings and had a walloping good time as Laurie described people and got her to draw caricatures of the passengers from his outlandish descriptions. They were having fun, so of course Mrs. Miller contrived a reason for Amy to catch up on her sewing with the other ladies. 

Laurie and Amy concluded that it was best to be in groups lest they be instantly separated. They indulged in euchre, whist and draughts and dominoes. They even attempted to play shuffleboard amidst the to-ing and fro-ing of the ship. 

“Are you sure you’ll be able to play Laurence, with the heaviness of your shadow adding weight to the game?” One of the men, Reverend Firth, teased and Laurie turned around to indeed see Mrs. Miller off to the side keeping a sharp eye on the proceedings. Laurie gave her a little wave and a flirtatious smile. She looked thoroughly harassed by his gesture and turned her face from him immediately. The men laughed heartily at him and ribbed him that he’d managed to ruffle her feathers and that he had an admirer. Upon finding out the Mrs. Miller was a widow, the teasing ramped up to them calling him the next Mr. Miller. Even Amy joined in on teasing him. 

He began to wonder whether there was some truth to the light hearted teasing given Mrs. Miller’s tendentious activities geared towards Amy. For Mrs. Miller was the negative of Amy, having not the fair hair, petite frame, grace and elegance and beauty that Amy had enough of to squander. Was there some sort of jealousy involved, Laurie wondered? Because most alarmingly and with suspicious frequency Mrs Miller had taken to making polite conversation with him while Amy had been scheduled to sewing and reading and attending prayer services and participating in prayerful discussions. She bore it all with a graceful smile and outward insouciance, though he knew inwardly that she was screaming at being unable to pursue whatever she liked and being kept apart from him. He and Amy had been so in tune that even though his interactions with her had been limited lately he knew that she was thinking of him as much as he was thinking of her. Mrs. Miller’s intentions to keep them apart to maintain propriety only seemed to increase by a hundred fold the impure thoughts rampaging through Laurie’s brain. If Mrs. Miller had any idea of the dirty thoughts in his head, Laurie was positive that she would immediately try to sanitize him with chlorine. 

His opportunity to speak with Amy came only in a few times during the day at breakfast, lunch and dinner and after dinner when some cruel captain thought it a good idea that the passengers should maintain a journal. In the dining saloon the thirty of them, gentlemen and ladies of the first and second class, were sat at the tables with the lamps swaying precariously as they tried to scribble the day’s events. Laurie couldn’t parse this peculiar and malignant torture and had given up immediately, falling into conversation with the Reverend next to him. He chanced a look up the table and was surprised to see Amy writing away furiously, she even turned the page! He couldn’t possibly fathom what she had to write so, unless she was listing off all of the ways to make Mrs. Miller disappear. He looked on at her curiously for a while until his companions asked if he was interested in a smoke. Laurie agreed, knowing that Amy was not in a position to stop him what with her current lockdown. He passed in front of her on his way out of the dining room. 

“Do be careful of cramps, Miss March.” 

She looked up at him shyly. “You may read it if you like.” She smiled serenely at him and he quickly took the book before Mrs. Miller had the chance to interfere, tucking it into his jacket pocket. 

While the men sat and talked and smoked, Laurie walked over to a secluded spot near the rails. The water was pitch black, but the sound of the ship slicing through it was relaxing. Here the stars could be seen plainly, like diamonds in black velvet. By the light of the hanging lanterns he took out Amy’s journal and leaned against the railing to settle and indulge in her thoughts luxuriously as he lazily smoked his cigar. 

_Dearest Laurie,_

_I know that I should be writing in this journal the day’s events, but honestly there is only so many words that can be spared on the latitude and longitude of our present shipping position. I’m not sure how Jo manages it, but I for one have used up all of the synonyms for blue to describe the sky and sea today. I know that you are as equally uninterested as myself to hear of sewing or even the good Reverend’s sermons, so I shall not bother to bore you with my thoughts on them, for honestly I have no thoughts on them other than I find them boring and lugubrious. Hmm, it appears all of this writing is affecting my vocabulary for I have never in my life had reason to use the word lugubrious._

_No, I am unable to write of the mundane activities of the ship, but my thoughts of you can fill volumes, an entire library possibly. All day and all night I dream of you. I miss you more than ever and you are only mere feet away from me. When you are close, you fill my entire senses. I see you and I yearn to touch you. I hear you and yearn to taste you. I smell your cologne and I go wild and speechless. I want to love you and be loved by you._

_My lord I feel trapped and I wish that you would save your lady. I am unsure as to what heinous crime I committed to deserve the sort of cruel and heartless punishment that Mrs Miller inflicts upon me. She despises me baselessly. The only good thing to come out of this is that I have left my burden of sorrow and lonesomeness behind because my thoughts are now filled only with you. It simultaneously shames and angers me that my feelings of grief have been eclipsed so easily by my yearning for you. But as I said before, loving you is to throw rational thought out the nearest window. Having to focus on any other task besides loving you is the most strenuous activity and one that I am failing miserably, for I am weak for you. I long for you to come and comfort me. I dream of being next to you and walking by your side freely. Everything seems magnified and I look forward to the glimpses I get of you at breakfast, lunch and dinner with fervour. I eat because I must, but only you can satisfy and sustain my soul._

_My darling Laurie, I feel trapped and withered like a rose amidst heavy pages. But I know that if I am feeling this way, then you are as well. Together, even apart, we will hold steadfast. It’s only been a month on this ship and I have waited for you all my life, what’s a little more wait? I write those words boldly, but know this – each day, every hour and minute and second, I long for you and my heart grows fonder._

_Sincerely,  
Your Raphaella._

Straight to his heart with her words, Laurie thought. He ripped out the pages and folded them neatly, securing them in his inside jacket pocket lest anyone happen upon the very personal and scandalous words. He leaned back against the railing and thought of this moral dilemma. Amy had touched upon the very feelings in both their hearts with candour and conviction. Just mere feet away from her and he felt as if his soul was being stretched. He had promised Amy to take it slowly and let her emotions settle during this time of grief, that he would not hurry her. But what sense would that make if they both went insane from longing before they even touched American waters? A thought crossed his mind as the good reverend caught his attention when he laughed loudly at something his companions said. 

Why wait? More and more the reasons seemed muddled in light of Amy’s writings. He called the reverend over and with heads bent they discussed a private matter. The reverend looked up at him in pleasant surprise at the request and clapped Laurie on the arm in early congratulations. 

The next morning Laurie woke early, but was not the first to the dining hall. There Amy was sitting at the far end of hall. She had not yet noticed his presence and he stood for a while simply admiring her. Still dressed in all black for mourning and her only adornment was a simple ebony cross at her throat which he had once gifted her while they were Paris. She wore grief and love well and looked stunning. But she was beauty and grace and he supposed she would look stunning even if she was lying to a jury or robbing old ladies. He came to sit opposite her and like light illuminating a dark room, her smile lit up her face at the sight of him. He felt enamoured. 

He took her hand in his bravely, for not many were around. Not in so many words, he transmitted his intentions. 

“I’ve been waiting for you…”

“I spoke to the reverend…” 

She looked hopeful. 

“My darling, will you?” He asked tenderly.

“Yes, Laurie.” She answered softly. 

Their wedding was held that very day. A storm was threatening, the sky bruised black and dark blue all day, the seas choppy, but Amy and Laurie were beacons of light and good cheer on the boat. It was the first time in a month that Amy changed out of black and wore her signature blue. The reception was held on the upper deck and everyone on the ship was invited. Lanterns were hung to the stanchions to give the night a feeling of stars touching down. It was simple and the few musicians on board came out to serenade them. There were toasts and speeches, romantic recitations of poetry and lots of dancing. The ship rocked riotously in the waves, touching heaven in one instant and its bow ready to impale a mermaid in the next. Amy and Laurie danced all night, rolling with the ship, scurrying down starboard when the waves roiled, turning their waltzes into impromptu polkas and Charlestons as they tried desperately to avoid ending up overboard. The rains came down heavily and everyone hurried to below deck, the festivities now over. 

All enjoyed themselves and there was so much laughter at this spectacle. Someone even remarked that marrying Laurence was the best thing that seemingly happened to Miss March since they had never seen her smile so brightly. Happiness became her. 

That night Amy packed up her belongings and retired to Laurie’s room in the first class section and didn’t even look back to see Mrs Miller’s disappointed looks. As a matter of fact Amy wouldn’t see Mrs Miller for days for it was a week later when Amy emerged from Laurie’s room feeling brand new.

* * *

Laurie smiled at the soothing nostalgia of his wedding day as he entered his house. He quietly closed the door behind him.

“Amy?” He called out tentatively. 

“She’s not here, Mr. Laurence.” Ethel answered him as she came up the hall from the kitchen and Laurie sighed in relief. Ethel took his coat and case. “She took Bess to the park with Mrs. Bhaer, like you planned. Mrs. Bhaer came over at around three, but she had to be very persuasive since Mrs. Laurence didn’t seem inclined to go out, but eventually she was successful.” 

“Good, good.” Laurie said as he proceeded to the backyard to survey whether his instructions were being carried out, Ethel following behind him. “How is everything coming along?” 

“Everything is fine and in order, sir.” Ethel smiled at his nervousness as he opened the backdoor and walked out into the yard, looking everything up and down. Satisfied, he turned and went back inside, Ethel dutifully behind him, and made his way to the drawing room to listen to her report. 

“Did Mrs. Brooke come over?” He asked as he took up a seat. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“You looked it over?”

“Yes. It looks to be of excellent quality and I believe that it will fit like a glove.” 

“She left at three, you said? You’ve had enough time?” 

“Yes, sir. Everything is set up.” 

“You don’t think she suspects anything do you?” 

“No, not all. Please permit me to say that I think what you are doing for Mrs. Laurence is the sweetest gesture.”

“She deserves it.” Laurie smiled with conviction and Ethel too. 

“Mrs Laurence certainly does. She’s a good wife, mother and employer. She has been nothing but kind to me.” She looked to be getting overwhelmed and Laurie looked at her in concern. “I’m sorry, sir, but I just love romance stories. May I be excused?” 

“Yes, yes.” And she immediately hurried off. Laurie wanted to laugh and just knew if Amy was here they would have been in tears at Ethel’s dramatic exit, just like they were this morning when she found him with Amy’s finger in his mouth. Laurie would forever be kind to Ethel who always knew when to display life-saving initiative. She eventually admitted that it was she who had called over Jo the night he returned from the doctor alone. She had run over to the house at five in the morning and begged Mrs. Bhaer to come over, that “something was wrong with Mr and Mrs Laurence,” and begged Jo’s silence with a tearful “please don’t tell Mr Laurence that I called you.” Ethel was also the one that risked walking the streets at midnight to beg Laurie to come home from work because, “Something is wrong with Mrs Laurence and Bess.” She was a true bleeding heart that girl and he appreciated her service. 

The grandfather clock said it was about twenty minutes to five o’clock. Laurie immediately stood, remembering that he was supposed to look for something. He went into his bedroom, opening the drawers of the table near the window, finding nothing there but passports and bills and other official documents. He stilled and smiled quietly when he saw Bess’ birth paper. 

Sometimes, she felt surreal; an honest to goodness miracle. Everyone always assumed that the birth of a child was the perfect end to a fairy tale wedding and romance. As grateful and overjoyed that they were over the birth of Bess, it wasn’t always rainbows and butterflies and no one had warned Laurie that parenthood was equal parts rewarding and devastating, that such a dream was also capable of creating and filling a void. He couldn’t believe that she was here and for a few moments he reminisced.

* * *

Certain things do indeed stay with a person. When the midwife had placed the swaddled bundle of his child into his arms, Laurie would always remember the weight and the surprising heat emanating from the tiny being. 

“It’s a girl.” The midwife told him with a small smile. 

A girl! He had a daughter! He was a father!

All of a sudden he felt like he was a spastic octopus and the fear that he would drop her nearly overwhelmed him. He cradled her closer to him and peered into the depths of her swaddling clothes to see a round face, a bit splotchy probably from the exertion of being born and wisps of light hair. Her eyes were shut and she looked altogether serene. Just then Marmee, Jo and Meg crowded him to get a look and he very nearly shooed them away. From where had this beastly protectiveness suddenly appeared? 

The midwife began to walk away, back to the bedroom and Laurie spoke up; his voice uneven with desperation. 

“My wife? Is she alright?” 

“The doctor is patching her up. I believe she will make it.” 

A relief washed over him, like a shower of rain and Laurie felt weak with the reprieve, though he bristled a bit at the use of the words ‘patching her up’, like Amy was an old quilt. What a provoking remark, he thought with a bit of disdain. But no mind, Amy was going to make it. She would survive. He looked down at his daughter and noted with astounding satisfaction that he now had his own family. Mercifully, he was saved by an embarrassing rush of tears when Marmee asked to hold her granddaughter. He almost refused her, but good sense prevailed and Laurie handed over his daughter and marvelled that he had known this little creature of his for all of five minutes and was already willing to commit heinous acts in her name. Laurie leaned against the wall and surreptitiously tried to bring himself back down to earth. Presently, the midwife returned to help with that.

“Mr Laurence, is there a room to where we can temporarily move your wife? Your bedroom needs to be tidied before we can return Mrs Laurence to recuperate and nurse.” 

And just like that the next few hours were filled with practicalities. They had to set up a room and figure out the logistics of moving Amy and whether that was even a prudent idea. The mattress had to be destroyed; it was now swimming in Amy’s blood. The room needed to be cleaned and aired out. In their fear and anxiety and superstition over the impending birth, the Laurences had not prepared any physical space for the baby. Vaguely, they had an idea that the room next to their bedroom would be the nursery, but the idea of setting up a nursery for no baby...well they would not have been able to bear it and so, nothing was done. The rest of the first evening was spent organizing a mattress, cleaning the rooms, procuring diapers and bottles and Marmee futilely trying to get Amy to breastfeed in her state of delirium fuelled by laudanum, fatigue and extreme pain. Nothing was settled until late when they finally moved Amy back into the bedroom. In the end, Amy was simply too exhausted and dazed to lift even a finger, let alone her daughter and so that first night when everyone left and Amy lay quietly sleeping, Laurie sat on an armchair next to his wife and bottle fed his daughter the way Marmee had shown him. 

The night was still. His mother-in-law was sleeping in a room down the hall. Jo and Meg had left and the house was silent. Laurie finished feeding his daughter and lifted her to gently rub her back as Marmee had demonstrated to him. He felt terrified that he would do something wrong. What if he didn’t hear the belch? What if she never did? What if because he was too tired or too reckless or too lazy or too negligent and something happened to her? 

There was no chance of Laurie doing that tonight as the belch that emanated from his daughter was loud enough that Amy stirred.

“Well that’s rather un-ladylike, little miss.” Laurie said and began to laugh as he peered down at the cherubic face. Her eyes were a startling blue. He received a lazy smile and Laurie’s heart melted. 

“Who does she look like?” Amy said and Laurie started a bit. He looked up and Amy was struggling to sit up. That simple gesture had her exhausted and her face twisted in agony.

“How are you feeling?” Laurie asked tenderly. 

“Everything aches.” 

“The laudanum has worn off then. Do you want some more?” 

“Not right now. I want to properly meet my daughter. I was too dazed earlier to take a good look at her.” 

Laurie smiled and rose to hand the girl over to her mother. He sat on the edge of the bed watching as Amy met her daughter properly for the first time. 

The magnitude of the realization that they had survived impacted Laurie and bowled him over. He bent forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and let reality wash over him. This moment of buoyant celebration that was needled with anxiety was being burned into his memory. Even as he closed his eyes he could still see Amy with her hair loose around her, her thin white nightdress that only served to highlight how paled her colouring was, the dark circles under her eyes. And still she looked truly beautiful and sincerely happy as she peered down at her daughter and touched with wonder, smiled and said sweetly, “Hello Elizabeth.” 

Laurie looked up. “Elizabeth?” 

Amy smiled a bit timidly at him. “It came to me when I was in and out of it. I can’t explain it. She’s our angel and Beth…I don’t know. I can’t explain it. If you don’t like it…” 

“No, no, not at all. I think it’s perfect. It suits her. But we might get a little confused with the names, so we’ll call her Bess?” 

Amy smiled, relieved. “I like it. Hello Bess.” Bess was milk-drunk and fast falling asleep, her eyes closing down rapidly. She was absolutely adorable and Laurie knew he was in love.

He smiled like a loon. 

“Are you alright?” Amy asked him when she saw the dopey expression. 

“I’m just happy. She’s adorable. She has your eyes and hair.” 

“And thank the Lord in heaven she has your nose.” 

Laurie ended up laughing loudly and Bess stirred, annoyed to be awoken. She immediately began to fuss. Amy sighed and Laurie looked sheepish, even as he got up to take Bess and rock her back to sleep. 

As Bess fell asleep in his arms and Amy too dozed off, Laurie smiled to himself. God! He had never known such contentment.

* * *

Laurie would like to say that the first few months were as blissful and full of parental satisfaction as on that first night, but the truth of the matter was that the first three months were actually a bit hellish scattered with moments of heart-warming sincerity. Amy finally roused from her laudanum fuelled stupor, but she was in constant pain. She bit through the agony, refusing the laudanum because of how muddled it made her and she was terrified it would make her drop Bess. The days passed and turned into weeks and the pain seemed to be ebbing so very slowly. Amy refused to complain as it wasn’t virtuous. She instead tried to focus on her glee at having survived the treacherous labour and with a beautiful daughter to show for it, but Laurie could see that something was bothering Amy, underneath the surface, but he couldn’t put his finger on it and it somewhat abstractly concerned him. He wondered whether it had to do with the same fears that he was harbouring, that something would happen to her or Bess. So many women delivered perfectly healthy babies only to succumb to a fever days later, leaving their child motherless, their husbands wifeless. However, a couple weeks passed and Amy seemed fine enough. There was no fever, though she could barely walk and when she did go a short distance, she would climb back into bed sweating and exhausted. 

One day, while in her bedroom sitting on the armchair at the window with Bess, Amy stared outside, her mind seeing through and through as she tried to ignore the physical agony deep inside of her. She would only be brought back when Bess snorted milk through her nose and Amy would look down in horror at her lack of attention. This episode spiralled her into a weighted depression and she began to be afraid to breastfeed alone. She oscillated between prickly irritability and sunken melancholy that she tried to hide behind a veneer of shallow smiles whenever Laurie asked her what was wrong. 

“I’m fine, my lord. I’m really alright.” 

Her mood seemed to infect Bess and his daughter was often irritable and colicky. Bess was small, too small and Laurie’s fears for her overtook him, overtaking his concerns over Amy. Marmee would only smile and tell him not to worry, that Bess would grow strong. She told them that they should give Bess a bottle of cow’s milk mixed with finely ground wheat and malt flour to help her get bigger and stronger. Laurie listened attentively and while Amy breastfed during the day, Laurie fed Bess a bottle of this concoction at night. Bess seemed to grow and get better, but not Amy who hardly slept and became restless. As her physical wounds began to heal, it appeared new ones were forming in her mind. 

“What’s wrong?” Laurie would ask gently. 

“I’m fine, my lord.” She would reply blankly. 

Laurie would nod and continue to rock Bess. He couldn’t figure it out. Since when was he unable to read Amy. It was like a five inch thick glass wall had risen up in front of her. He even voiced his concerns to his mother-in-law. 

“I think something’s wrong with Amy.” He said quietly one evening as he watched Marmee gently bathe Bess. Marmee had smiled knowingly. 

“A lot of women fall into a bit of melancholy after a birth. It happened to me with Meg and especially Jo who was such a handful. Motherhood can be overwhelming, Laurie. That’s why I’m here. And Amy is lucky to have you. You are very supportive of her in a way that I wish more men could be and that will help her tremendously. It will pass in a couple of weeks, don’t worry.” 

Laurie nodded, but he didn’t feel confident. Marmee’s advice was that Amy needed to get used to the routine of motherhood and so the young parents had surprisingly found an easy rhythm with Marmee taking over during the day to assist Amy and Laurie helping at night when he returned from work. Bess was attuned to the schedule and she ruled over them with a firm and tiny fist. She clung to her mother like a barnacle on a ship during the day, but as evening drew near she grew ansty for her father, bringing down the house with terrible screams if he was not present when she demanded him. Amy and Laurie abided to Bess’ rigid and tyrannical schedule and they began to feel confident, they were getting the hang of this parenting thing. After a month, Marmee decided that it was time to return to her own husband and Amy and Laurie faced parenting on their own. 

After Marmee returned to her own home, that first day began so innocently and with no warning of what was to come. Laurie had hugged his wife and gently kissed his daughter and left for work. There was nothing abnormal about the day at first, but just as he was getting ready to leave, disaster struck one of his employees when a crate fell and crushed the legs of the hapless man. Almost simultaneously Laurie received news that one of his trading ships sank in a storm in the Atlantic with everyone on board presumed dead or missing and all cargo lost. And so for the next few hours Laurie was deterred trying to sort out these catastrophes. 

It had been nearing midnight. He was standing at his desk with seven other men as they peered over a map of the Atlantic. They had finally managed to move the injured man away to the doctor and now Laurie turned his attention to the next disaster. With voices raised the men argued over what should be done. Their voices were so loud that they didn’t initially hear the small knock on the door, forcing Ethel to enter the room unannounced. 

“Excuse me!” 

Silence as every head turned to look upon the intruder. Ethel looked like she wanted to melt into the ground at the attention. Laurie’s stomach plummeted at the sight of her. 

“Ethel what are you doing here? What’s happened?” 

“You need to come home, sir. Something is wrong with Mrs Laurence and Bess – ”

Laurie didn’t wait to hear the rest of her sentence and was out the door, nearly bowling her over. She had to do a silly walk-run to keep up with his long strides. 

What was maddening was that Ethel seemed incapable of adequately explaining exactly what was wrong. In halting and disjointed sentences she told him that Mrs Laurence and Bess was crying and not alright. It was not exactly a detailed diagnostic report and Laurie rolled his eyes and pressed forward with more urgency. 

He alighted from the carriage with a fevered urgency, leaving Ethel to eat his dust as he fled up the stairs. He could hear Bess’ wails from outside. 

Amy was on the bed. Her hair had huge sections of it falling loose as if she’d been pulling at it. She was sitting with her knees pulled up as she rested her arms on them. Tears streaked her face as she stared a thousand yards ahead of her. And Bess was lying on the bed next to her wailing, her face red from the exertion. He immediately rushed to pick her up. 

Amy turned to look at him, her face contorted into a panicky, anguished grimace. 

“Why don’t you attend to her?! What did you do?” He asked her rather harshly and a fresh wave of tears was supplied by both mother and child at his tone. 

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her. She keeps crying. She refuses to take the breast. I tried to feed her with the bottle and she took a bit of that, but threw it back up. I’ve changed her and rocked her. I gave her sugar water for the gripe. I kept her close and kept her tummy warm. Nothing works. Something is wrong with her. Where were you?”

“I had to deal with something at work.” Laurie answered a bit distractedly as he tried to hush and soothe his daughter.

“Something is wrong…” 

“Nothing is wrong with her. She only misses her father. You should have sent for your mother or Jo if you couldn’t handle her.” 

So completely caught up in Bess, Laurie was unaware of the effect of his offensive words. It seemed to be the wrong thing to say for in Amy’s mind his words amounted to a scathing indictment on her failure and inability to care for her daughter; an acknowledgement that Bess preferred her father to her mother; a testimony that Amy was not only incompetent, but also unneeded. Instead of responding, Amy only nodded in agreement and looked straight ahead, her eyes unseeing. And Laurie in his protective concern over the health and wellbeing of his daughter, ignored his wife. He continued to walk around the room rocking Bess and whispering to her that she should hush and be calm, that he was here now. 

It seemed to work for after a while Bess quieted, though Laurie suspected it had nothing to do with him and more that his daughter was simply exhausted. He didn’t bother to put her in her crib, instead preferring to keep a close eye on her as he rested her in the middle of the bed. He continued to ignore Amy, still a bit cross with her that she would leave Bess to wail right next to her unattended. He laid next to his daughter and watched her serene face and guilt consumed him. He should have come home earlier. He knew the routine. He knew that Bess longed for him in the evenings. 

“I’m sorry, my angel. I’m here now.” He said, gracelessly ignorant of the effect he was having on his wife. Eventually, he fell asleep, his last image before he closed his eyes was of the sweet sleeping face of his daughter, completely unaware of his wife who was silently crying right next to her. 

Hours later he woke, at first alarmed when he opened his eyes and Bess was not there. He bolted upright to see Amy sitting at the armchair near the window with Bess in her arms. Amy’s eyes were so listless and dark that Laurie stilled. Was this how she looked last night? She had still not fixed her hair and was wearing her clothes of yesterday. Her face looked gaunt, but it was her eyes that made him pause. They looked devoid of light. Was this why Ethel looked so scared? 

She looked at him and a chill went up his entire body. 

“I want you to listen to me. Something is wrong with Bess. She hasn’t woken since you came home. She’s been asleep for hours. I tried to wake her to feed her, but she’s not waking up. Her skin in hot and she’s having trouble breathing. Something is wrong with her.” She spoke quietly and firmly. 

With furrowed brows he got off the bed and took Bess from her. Gently he felt her forehead and indeed she seemed to be burning up. “You should have woken me. We should call your mother over or Jo.” 

Amy sighed and closed her eyes. “Please…” She spoke haltingly and Laurie looked at her, really looked at her. When she opened her eyes they were brimming with tears. “Please don’t call over anyone. She needs to see the doctor. Please listen to me.” 

Laurie readily agreed, concern overwhelming him for Bess, but now not just guilt and fear filled him over Bess’ health, but now he was also concerned for Amy. Something was wrong. In the light of the day he could so plainly see it as if she’d been wearing it like a cloak. 

“Alright, alright. We’ll take her to the doctor.” 

Amy dragged herself up and blindly headed for the door. She wasn’t even wearing shoes!

“Darling, maybe you should compose yourself before you step out.” 

Dazed, she turned to him with her hand on the door handle. “You’re right. I should stay here. I would only complicate matters.” 

Laurie’s heart melted for in that moment he realized that he was losing his wife. In the weeks following Bess’ birth Laurie was on the lookout for physical signs that Amy was in trouble – a fever, unending headaches, non-stop haemorrhaging – but Amy displayed none of those symptoms. He never expected her sickness to take such an insidious and malignant form of attacking her mind and heart. Disaster was striking him at two fronts and Laurie felt underequipped to deal with this. 

“That’s not what I meant, my dear, but never mind. Let’s go to the doctor. I’ll organize the carriage. You take Bess.” 

She actually backed away in fear, realized what she did and shame and defeat seemed to settle upon her. Laurie paused and stared at her with naked concern.

“My darling, take your daughter.” He implored and Amy capitulated, it appeared a bit unwillingly. 

Laurie opened the bedroom door and Amy gripped at his shirt. “Please don’t be long.” 

He nodded calmly while inside he was burning a fever of fear and anxiety. He felt like he was suffocating in this cloistered atmosphere of sickness and madness.

* * *

The incident came and went. Bess’ recovery took a long time and consumed every fibre of their attention. Laurie decided that firstly, he would focus on Bess and then he would tackle the issue with Amy. Was he correct in doing this? He had no idea. He was stumbling around in the dark with pathetic and misguided attempts at simply surviving this ordeal. Nobody ever spoke about this. This was not discussed amongst men, this being considered a ‘domestic issue’. He had no idea how to brace the topic with either Jo or Meg since never once had he heard or noticed either of them have any sort of melancholy settling over them after birth. And nobody ever will talk about it for it appeared when Amy’s sisters came over she would put on a tight smile and be the perfect hostess and sister. When they left, she would retire to the bedroom and cry for hours. She would go about her duties with tears falling freely. This time when he asked what was wrong he was answered with a numbed and frightened, “I don’t know.” 

Silently, he begged Amy to hold on as Bess was still so fragile and demanded all of his attention. Numerous parlous nights they spent watching anxiously over the little girl, trying to bring down fevers, trying to even her laboured breathing, trying to bring her weight up. And in the meanwhile Laurie noticed a vast and empty landscape developing between him and Amy. They rarely spoke unless it concerned Bess. Amy was hardly sleeping and grew anxious and paranoid that something would happen to Bess while simultaneously keeping an emotional distance from the girl and her husband. 

The doctor had recommended a bit of sunshine as Bess improved and so, with the weather changing to cooler temperatures, Amy and Laurie sat in the gazebo of their backyard one afternoon with Bess bundled up in her baby carriage. The weather was cool, but the sun was bright, but not stinging. Laurie absently pushed the stroller back and forth with his foot and decided the time had come. 

“I’ve missed you, darling.” He said quietly to her. She didn’t answer at first. Instead, she stared straight ahead at the vast lawn of the backyard, the roses and perennials she had planted, the willow that had a little bench underneath it and was perfect for reading in the morning. “I wish that you would tell me what’s going on in your mind.” 

Amy looked at her hands in her lap and a small, wry smile escaped, her lips stretched maybe a centimetre or two. She shook her head in disbelief? Amusement? Annoyance? 

“I cannot read you and it frightens me. I used to be able to slip into your mind.” He remarked. 

“That’s because I haven’t been myself lately.” She said quietly. Laurie said nothing. He realized that he needed to give her room to feel comfortable, he needed to attentively listen and sympathize, something that he was failing at in the last few months. Guilt and regret consumed him. 

“I’ve been so miserable. I don’t believe that I’m doing a very good job. Every day I feel like I did when I fell into that frozen pond, except there’s no you coming to save me.” 

What a visceral gut-punch of words, Laurie thought. It took his breath away. And as if she’d been waiting to have been asked, truly asked, the words desperately poured out of her. 

“I’m terrified. All the time I’m terrified. I’m so scared that something will happen to her. Doesn’t it consume you? It’s all I can think about especially since I don’t think I’m readily equipped to raise an angel. I can’t sleep. I can’t eat. It’s all I think about. My heart feels like it’ll burst with fear. I feel like I’ve just been out running for miles. My chest hurts. I sometimes cannot breathe when she cannot breathe. She cries and I cry because I know it’s only a matter of time before something happens to her because I cannot help her. Every day only serves to shine a light on my incompetence and unsuitability to this task and I know that you think it too. The maddening thing is that if anything happens to her, I cannot give you another one. My body has completely betrayed me one last time. Something will happen to her and you’ll resent me. The idea that… My thoughts are dripping with black.” 

She finished quietly. She didn’t sob, but tears formed in her eyes like they’d been doing every day for the last three months; a melancholy companion. Laurie sat stunned at the admission. 

Children were supposed to draw a couple nearer, not separate them, Laurie thought. He said nothing for a few moments and she look resigned to his lack of response and honestly, that really hurt to know that she expected neglect from him. 

“Look,” He beckoned her to peer over the carriage. “She’s getting better. Look at her countenance. Does she not look rosy and bright? Come, put your hand on her chest. Do you feel how she breathes? She breathes easy and quiet. Look at her tummy, full of milk. She’s growing well. You are doing a fine job. We are doing a fine job. I am always by your side and I apologize sincerely for neglecting you. I admit that I’ve been myopic and inconsiderately remiss in my duties as a husband. You know usually, it’s the other way around with the wife consumed by her duties for the child and the husband feeling neglected.” He tried to joke, but Amy only looked morose. Humour was not appreciated. 

“The only thing I wish to chastise you for is that you seem to have forgotten the promises we made on that boat all those years ago. We promised to always be honest and true. We promised to always walk hand in hand with each other through trials and blessings. Let me hold your hand through this uncertain time,” and he took her hands in his. “I know that you are scared, I am too. But know this: I will never resent you. My blood runs through you and you are as much of me as I am of you. Together we will suffer and together we will celebrate, but the point is that we will do so together. Never leave me out. Do you promise?” 

Amy nodded. She dared not speak lest the sob that was threatening to bubble up leap out her throat. 

“We’ll get through this, my Raphaella. We will.” Laurie said with such firm conviction that Amy had no choice but to smile, her first sign of hope in months. It burbled within her, overtaking the sob and pushing it down and with the admission of a small smile hope broke free and escaped in a hysterical burble of laughter. Both Laurie and Amy looked surprised and Laurie’s heart melted, for he only just realized that his wife had not laughed in months and he missed the sound.

* * *

Now acutely aware of the terror they were harbouring, they drew closer over the shared experience of being utterly terrified over the fact that they had no idea what they were doing when it came to baby raising. Laurie had reminded and instructed Amy to share her everything with him and she did so with a wretched keenness. Their unspeakable fears were shared over many conspiratorial confidences and now morphed into deadpan humour. So many times they would stand over Bess’ bassinet and look down confusedly at the child. 

“Is this normal? Should a small child be capable of producing that much excrement?” Laurie would ask in grossed out amazement.

“I have no idea. It seems to have exploded onto her back.” Amy would respond with equally morbid fascination. 

“I suppose we’ll just have to add it to the list of things we don’t know about children.” 

“It’s no longer a list my lord. It’s starting to turn into Volume One of an encyclopaedic collection.” 

“Do you think her sense of smell is functioning? I doubt it since she’s so content to roll around in the filth like it’s snow.” Laurie commented as he stifled a cough. 

“Hers might not be functional, but ours are.” 

Just then Bess let rip a spectacularly loud emission that was most sulphuric in its essence. A bubbling sound was heard and the little child seemingly laughed at her parent’s obvious discomfort. 

Laurie and Amy looked at each other and laughed and laughed. 

“Little angel, you called her my lord?” 

“I never said an angel from which realm.” Laurie joked as he backed away from the bassinet. 

“And where do you think you’re going?” 

“It’s your turn now. I did it last time.” 

Amy only nodded, knowing that she would eventually get her revenge and so she did when a few hours later Bess threw up all over Laurie’s shoulder, the substance even managing to get inside his collar and drip down inside the back of his shirt. With a carefree eyebrow pop of unconcern, Amy peered over her book and told Laurie, “It’s your turn now. I did it last time,” and went back to reading. 

Knowing that they were equally clueless about child rearing was a comfort to Amy, but it still didn’t completely stop her thoughts that she was an imperfect and incompetent mother. Laurie sincerely believed that she was not thinking right, but her thoughts were marred by her solitary experiences. He endeavoured to right this wrong way of thinking when they were all sitting at Orchard House for Christmas that year and he regaled them with the epic failure of when he tripped gracelessly and spilt warm milk all over Bess’ face. 

“Oh that’s nothing,” Jo had said, “I once dropped Ted. And I dropped Rob just the other day. He sort of bounced a bit. Thank the heavens there was carpet. Look that red spot isn’t a birthmark. It’s carpet burn. I’ve made plenty of mistakes.” 

“Oh Laurie, you’re not alone at all,” Meg chimed in, “When those two just began school the teacher wanted ink prints of Demi and Daisy’s handprints and footprints. They even sent in the paper with a little written text on top with ‘My tiny hands’ and ‘My tiny feet’. It was supposed to teach them about their limbs. I accidentally mixed it up and for months Demi and Daisy thought their feet were their hands. The teacher thought they were slow.” 

Even Marmee supplied a story of her own of when she tried to cut Jo’s hair when Jo was just a toddler, but Marmee sneezed and the scissors ended up nicking her ear. “I nearly killed you.” 

Amy had sat quietly and laughed, but Laurie could see that she was coming to the understanding that she was her own biggest critic brought on by her incessant need to be perfect. She understood what he was doing and exchanged a grateful smile with him as everyone traded their parenting fails over plates of ham and mashed potatoes. 

He took her hand under the table and stared into his wife’s eyes. The conversation and people around them seemed to disappear. An understanding was passing between them akin to a sexual awakening. It had been over a year since he had last taken his wife to bed and want for her struck with all the force of a thunderbolt of lightning. 

The rest of the evening Laurie spent admiring his wife. They begged him to play the piano and he did play some favourite tunes that they all could sing along to, but his mind was far, yet near as he kept stealing glances at Amy like an infatuated teenager. As the evening drew on, the party became more private as the children began to doze off and the parents began to cluster into groups with the conversation becoming more sincere and sporadic. Outside it began to snow languorously. Laurie sat at the piano, his notes quiet and sensual. Amy came to sit next to him and he looked at her as if seeing her for the first time in a long while. 

Amy tentatively struck a chord in C-sharp minor with her left hand and Laurie immediately accompanied her notes with an ostinato triple rhythm with his right hand. Deftly, they managed to turn Moonlight Sonata into a duet. It wasn’t perfect. Amy sometimes struggled to keep up with Laurie who was more skilled and Laurie had to remind himself to slow down and let his wife play, but the music sounded as sweet, fantastical and evocative as the first time they had heard it. 

“How well we play together, don’t we?” Amy said quietly, feeling suddenly shy in the presence of her husband. 

“So well that I wish we can always play together. Let’s go home, my darling.” He leaned in to whisper to her and he could see her visibly melt. 

Parnassus was still and quiet as it always was on Christmas. It was the one night when there were no servants roaming the house. While Amy went up to put Bess to bed, Laurie walked freely around his house feeling freedom within the solitude. It reminded him of their first few days after they had moved in. No servants had been hired yet and that week Amy made his breakfast, lunch and dinner and generally took pleasure in domestic duties, with the sort of gusto from someone who knew they were temporary reliefs. With hearty energy she threw herself into the role of homemaker and served him elaborate meals that she had cooked, spectacular spreads that made him wonder if she was inviting a small army over for dinner. She waited on him hand and foot, literally, actually fetching his slippers and helping him get dressed in the morning. She entertained a fairy tale fantasy of what being a mistress of her own home entailed. He did not dissuade her for he too laboured under his own prejudices. 

For Laurie, that time meant liberty. Liberty to kiss his wife with abandon in the middle of the dining room and spread her out over the massive oak table amongst the plates of piled high bacon and biscuits and make love to her, to drip honey over her erect nipples just to lick it off and encourage her to moan as loud she wanted. That first week in Parnassus, giddy over finally being the master of his own home meant Laurie could hoist his wife up on the piano while he sat and licked between her thighs and listen to the notes she struck be in tune with the moans she made. Did he have to hire a piano tuner after that? Small price to pay for the memory. 

Now as he was in his house on Christmas Laurie wondered if they could recreate that feeling of liberty. There were no servants tonight, but now they had to listen out for little cries. Their life would now have to strike that balance of romantic passion and humdrum domesticities. As they had freaked out over moments of celebrated milestones or the heart-stopping terror of nights filled with fever and asthmatic coughs, they had forgotten what electrifying intimacy was like. But now it returned to prickle their skin with want and longing. As he lit a fire in the drawing room, Laurie could barely think of anything else. 

Amy emerged some time later dressed in a long silk robe and apparently nothing else. Laurie immediately took notice for the last few months she had gone to bed in big, blousy nightgowns that effectively hid her body and was more practical than fashionable as it was easier to pop out a breast to feed Bess if necessary. Laurie tried to admire her, but she looked shy and uncomfortable; her hands folded over her stomach protectively and as soon as she entered the room she took up a seat in the winged armchair near the fire for shelter. 

“You’re shy with me now?” Laurie asked her from his seat on the sofa. Amy’s face turned rosy red and she hid her face in her hands for a moment to compose herself. 

“I feel like it’s our first night. Like we’re back on that boat.” 

“Our first night was actually the next morning. We spent the night running back and forth to the washroom as we got seasick from the storm and the champagne did not help.” Laurie reminded her. 

Amy laughed, feeling more relaxed. “The next morning the storm cleared and you woke up next to me and kissed me and all I was thinking was whether you had washed out your mouth from the night before.” 

Laurie laughed loudly, the sound echoing off the walls and Amy smiled, infatuated with the sound. 

“Amy, you’re not serious. My word, do you know how to wound a man’s pride. I was giving you my all and that’s what was on your mind?” Laurie dramatically threw an arm over his eyes. “Such shame!” He jokingly lamented. She came over to take a seat next to him and soothe him.

“Oh my lord, do not be troubled. If it’s any consolation, I must admit that you took my breath away that time and every time after that.” 

He dropped his hand and looked at her, really looked at her. He brought her in for a kiss, slowly, like he was testing the waters, gauging her reaction. There was genuine tenderness in that kiss along with the heady and flirty excitement as if it were their first time. 

Eventually she climbed onto him and he smiled wondering if she was feeling nostalgic since on that first morning in the boat she was also on top of him. It was borne out of him wanting her to control the pace, pain, pleasure and pressure and not because she needed to be in control like how she was now. He had had to guide her back then, teaching her how to rock onto him. Years later and she now knew exactly how to control the pace. She knew now how to rock back and ride him to control the speed and depth of his thrust. She was magnetic in her rhythm and he struggled to not have that coiled sexual tension within him erupt too soon. 

He reached to untie the robe and he could see the uncertainty on her face. And just like that first time when she was shy to reveal herself to him, he showered her with kisses to soothe her nerves and whispered romantic nothings in her ear to make her melt for him. _“Potrei guardarti tutto il giorno (I could look at you all day)”, “Sono innamorato di te (I’m in love with you)” and “Ho un debole per te (I’m weak for you)”_. While his body had remained fiercely taut, her body had changed. She had stretch marks, faint tiger stripes that ran along the sides of her stomach. There were two scars on her stomach now, like an upside down T. Her breasts were not as perky as they used to be, but to him they were the same as Iðunn’s precious apples of youth. They were fuller and heavier and he yearned to feel the weight of them in his hands, on his tongue, but to her they were now aching and she forbade him from touching. It only served to heighten his lust. His wife bore the evidence of the pain she endured for him. How could he not love all of her? With the fire flickering and casting lustful shadows, they made love, at once serene and febrile, the sex almost like a reclamation, an atonement with its intimacy and honesty.

* * *

Now a few months later Laurie replaced his daughter’s birth paper where he found it. Bess’ birth was a blessing. She had changed the dynamic of his relationship with Amy. With Bess getting older her precociousness seemed to expand exponentially. It wasn’t often that Amy and Laurie had the luxury of making love like they did on Christmas last. A lot of times now their intimate moments were hurried and took the form of a race, the winner being who could cum first before Bess’ need for attention interrupted them. This start-stop method to their love making inadvertently fired up their sexual appetites as they realized the race was not a 100 metre dash, but a marathon. For two days now Amy had kept him on the edge of orgasm and he was quietly going insane with want and need of her, just the way she liked him to be. 

God! He honestly loved nothing better. How lucky was he that he found the perfect woman for him, that heaven was right here in his home with his goddess wife and his angel daughter. 

A year later from Bess’ birth and they had sort of managed to find the balance within their relationship. Knowing that they were in this together, that they would make mistakes and celebrate their triumphs alike was enough to strengthen their marriage. Bess truly was an angel. Her presence had pared down his relationship with Amy, with himself to a bone white gleam and he was forced to look at his priorities and his shortcomings. What really mattered he realized was his family – his wife and daughter and anything else came after them. 

Continuing his search into his dressing room, he opened drawers and frantically pushed aside old clothes as he searched for that old jacket. Aha! Here was the jacket that he wore on his wedding day. He searched the pockets and it was still there. Just then, Laurie heard the unmistakable voices of Amy and Jo entering the hall and he went to meet them in the drawing room. He smiled, glad that Jo was able to abide by his instructions to ensure that Amy returned no later than five. 

“Papa! Papa!” Bess shouted as soon as she saw him and wiggled to get out of her mother’s arms. Amy rolled her eyes good-naturedly as she handed him his daughter. 

“I’ve never seen a bigger daddy’s girl than Bess, honestly.” Amy said as she took up a seat and Jo laughed. 

“I have the opposite problem with these boys.” Jo said looking to sit next to Amy, but shot up as if something bit her when Laurie gave her a pointed look. Amy looked at her sister quizzically. “Just remembered, I have to go uhh…I forgot a pie in the oven! See you!” And before Amy could protest Jo and her two sons were out the door. 

“Jo is so strange sometimes. She comes over and practically strong-arms me into going to the park. Then as soon as I’m settling in she pulls me up from the bench and practically marches us home. Now she says she has a pie in the oven? What on earth is wrong with her?”

Laurie shrugged innocently as he bounced Bess on his lap and pretended to be most absorbed in her baby speak. 

“Did you meet your grandfather? Will he be joining us for dinner?” 

“You’ll see him later.” He answered coyly. 

“Are you alright, my lord?” 

“What? Why do you ask?” 

“You seem…distracted. What’s on your mind?” 

“I’ve been feeling nostalgic lately. I know that you call me a hopeless romantic, but the truth is I’ve been falling down on that front for a very long time.” Bess climbed down from his lap, her attention caught by something. 

“Well it’s hard to be sentimental with a one year old trying to cause mischief all the time.” Amy said and she removed from Bess’ reach a snow globe on the coffee table. 

Indeed, Laurie thought, for he hadn’t actually accommodated Bess in this speech when the idea came to him some time ago. Bess, clueless and unconcerned that her father was trying to be a romantic hero to her mother babbled incessantly as she held onto her father’s leg while stretching to reach the elusive globe on the coffee table. Laurie took a deep breath as he tried to regain Amy’s attention. She and Bess now had a game as Amy moved the snow globe closer and Bess stretched for it and then she moved it further. Lots of giggles were involved from both parties. 

“Anyway, I’ve been thinking about when we got married. You remember we initially planned to get married a year later. But then you wrote me that letter. I found it by the way.”

“Hmm, yes.” Amy said distractedly as she moved the globe away. She had been trying for some time now to get Bess to walk on her own, to let go of the supports and this game was clearly another attempt that absorbed her attention. 

Laurie really should have let Jo take Bess with her. This wasn’t quite going to plan, (as usual! His treacherous mind supplied). Ah to hell with it, he’ll just have to hurry this along, he decided returning the letter to his jacket pocket.

“You’re a darling wife. Five years we’ve been married and I have learnt so many things. I have truly learnt the meanings behind honesty, patience, communication, forgiveness, respect and sensitivity. It hasn’t always been easy and we’ve both made mistakes along the way, but you have given me the home that I’ve always wanted. You’ve been through hell to give me our angel. Your body and your mind have been ravaged, but still you endure. Never have I witnessed anyone bore the things you have with such grace and equanimity. If it were up to me there’d be a parade in your honour, a building with your name, that sort of thing. And I’ve been wondering what I can do.” 

“You don’t have to do anything, my lord. It’s my duty and pleasure to serve you and be the best mother that I can be to Bess. Come to Mama, you can do it, angel.” Amy said as Bess stood on her own, unsure if she could take a tentative step forward. Amy looked up at Laurie and smiled and Bess, no longer having the undivided attention of her mother retreated to the safety of her father's legs. Amy frowned in disappointment. "Well there's always tomorrow to try walking on your own, angel." 

“So I wrote to Grandfather and we got to exchanging ideas. He was the one that suggested my grandmother’s ring. It took a while to track down because apparently my father had stolen it to give it to my mother and when they died, someone removed it. We finally tracked it to a pawn shop in Sicily. Grandfather brought it over and I had it sized this evening.” Laurie said as he removed a small box from his pockets. 

“Wait, what?” Amy looked up at him confused as he got down on one knee. “What are you – ”

“I never got to do it properly last time, so here goes. Amy will you – ”

“Papa!” Bess squealed as she attempted to climb him. Amy immediately stood and took Bess in her arms. Bess immediately began to fuss, kicking in her mother's arms as she tried to get back to her father. Amy looked at once astonished and distracted. 

“My lord, what are you doing?! Bess, please be still!” 

"Papa!"

Laurie gave up and stood. “I had an entire speech planned, but on my sainted mother I swear nothing ever goes the way I plan. I was supposed to take you down memory lane... Why ever do I bother? Listen, darling, we never got to do it properly last time. I never even gave you a ring. I intended to do so, but one thing led to a next and time simply passed by. We got married among strangers on a boat in the middle of the ocean. That was not what you had wanted. My Raphaella, let me rectify that immediately. Let’s get married properly this time. All of your family and our friends are going to meet us in about a half hour to watch us exchange vows like how we intended. Your father will marry us like how he married Jo and Meg. Let’s do it properly.” 

Amy stood there looking at him in abject shock, her mouth hanging open wide. She searched his face to discern whether he was serious or not, but found only naked sincerity. She screamed and then immediately clasped a hand over her mouth when the full power of the situation dawned on her. 

She rushed to kiss him. 

“Are you surprised?” 

“I’m in shock.” 

“Are you happy?” 

“I always was with you.” 

Well melt my heart, Amy Laurence, Laurie thought. 

“But I don’t have anything to wear!” 

“Don’t worry about that. I got Meg to make a dress for you.” 

“Oh my word! That little minx! All of those random questions make a lot more sense now. She was a spy!” 

“Yes, I was.” Amy turned to see Meg and Jo and Marmee entering the living room. Amy screamed in excitement and Bess did too. She ran to hug them. It was rather raucous as they all began to talk over one another. Laurie couldn’t help but be amused at his wife’s glee. 

“You all knew! This is the most exciting thing to happen since Jo chased down Fritz in the rain!” Amy exclaimed and everyone laughed. 

“Come, get dressed. I’ll take Bess.” Marmee said as Meg and Jo hurried Amy up the stairs in a flurry with all of them talking over each other.

* * *

The ceremony was to be held in the gazebo with Mr March presiding. Laurie stood waiting for his bride and a calm settled over him when Amy came out. Meg was fussing over Amy’s train and Jo, bless her heart, had somehow ended up with the task of overseeing Amy’s hair. She had done nothing but to stick a few sprays of roses from Amy’s own garden and she looked quite proud of her efforts. But Amy did not need much to make her look beautiful. She was beautiful before and even more radiant now as her soul was happy. She emerged and all eyes were attracted to her like a magnet, but Amy had eyes only for Laurie and for his part, Laurie couldn’t look away nor did he ever wish to.  
It was not your typical wedding for the bride and groom shared their first dance with their daughter and their ‘maids’ of honour soon filled the dancing area with their own husbands and children. 

With Bess in one arm and Amy in the next, Laurie swayed from side to side and suddenly laughed. Amy looked up at him questioningly. 

“Your Aunt March would have been scandalized by this.” 

At the thought of the old lady’s shocked face at such ‘bohemian’ and ‘demoralized’ proceedings Amy and Laurie burst into laughter. 

Amy eventually put her head on his shoulder and so too did Bess, a sign that she was beginning to feel tired and sleepy. 

What bliss, Laurie thought. Five years and he couldn’t wait for another five, ten, fifteen, five hundred more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this story about a couple that I fell in love with ever since I read Little Women when I was twelve years old. 
> 
> I hope this was satisfactory and did the characters justice. Let me know what you think.


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